Dove Drop Dead
by Phrynekins
Summary: Set between S1 and 2. Phryne & Jack are in the middle of a murder case concerning a smuggling racket of young girls. They have yet been unable to arrest the leader and prime suspect, Mr. Derrington. Jack fears the body of a young girl has stirred up Phryne's memories of Janey, and made her reckless enough to deal with Derrington herself, to protect the other girls. /For verifix
1. Chapter 1

Dove Drop Dead Phrynekins

 **Chapter I**

"There's nothing more we can do at the moment, Miss Fisher."

"But doesn't it bother you Jack that that man, that vile _animal_ may be out there looking for new young girls to manipulate and sell on? It's infuriating!"

"We can't know for sure it's him, even if it's most likely, and you know we can't pin anything on him yet. He's just the brain who lets other thugs do his dirty work. We have to just wait and see what his next move is. We have men shadowing him day and night."

"What if we find another dead girl tomorrow?"

"Calm down Phryne. What do you propose we do? Storm into his house accusing him of smuggling humans? It won't do any good."

Phryne continued pacing his office, looking up only to roll her eyes.

"Of course I don't want him out on the streets either but we are doing everything we can, which I admit, isn't much at the moment", Jack concluded.

Phryne hardly felt reassured, although Jack's deep voice otherwise calmed her.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Inspector."

"Good night, Miss Fisher."

Jack watched her leave his office. He couldn't tell if she was unusually agitated. Perhaps the dead girl had reminded her of Janey, even if she was much older than her. It would not surprise him.

... / ...

Restless and irritated that there was nothing they could do, Phryne returned to her house. She didn't blame Jack, of course, just the boundaries of the law. There must be _something_ she could do...there were girls who could be in danger, _no_ , who most likely were in danger. She had to do _something_. There was always a way, an option. A dangerous one.

Even if Jack couldn't prove it yet, she just knew Derrington, that _vile_ creature, was behind the murder and the human smuggling racket. She had felt it when they interviewed him last week, just like she could feel he was attracted to her. It made her shudder. Jack suspected him too; there was too much circumstantial evidence for him to be innocent. They knew he was in control of the smuggling racket of young girls from Melbourne to America; they just had to caught him in the act. But time was running out. Time to act. Fortunately, she had remained incognito when they interviewed him, so he did not know she was a lady detective or that she had any connection to the police.

... / ...

 _Later that night_

Derrington had swallowed the bait. He must really desire her if he agreed to meet her the same night. Even Jack had seemed to notice his interest of her.

She had put on her most ravishing indecent dress, deep red, and sparkling diamond earrings. He was early. Dot was with Hugh at the pictures and Jane was staying with a school friend. They shared a sumptuous dinner of wild duck and crème brûlée. He was just as arrogant and calculating as when they interviewed him, but she was confident she would eventually worm information out of him. She oozed of audacity and cockiness, and she could tell he liked it. His constant improper advances gave her the creeps, but he was too tempted by her body to notice...she had to get something out of him before he suggested they go upstairs.

He was very demanding. She was used to steering the conversation but so was he. Her plan was to basically make him crazy with lust so he would be so absentminded that he would let slip some vital information about the girls. After all, she could be very enticing and interrogative at the same time. She constantly had to remind herself she was doing it for the girls, for every touch made her cold inside. She had never tried to seduce a prime suspect like this before.

Up in her bedroom she finally managed to wheedle out something of worth out of him, but he was being were persistent. She would not let him undress her completely, and he was coming more and more aggressive in his advances. Suddenly he stopped.

She had been so intent on satisfying him that she didn't see the first punch coming.

"You're with the police", he hissed. "You're a fucking informer, you whore!

She was knocked sideways on the bed, and before she could get into a position to defend herself the first blow was followed by several other to her face. She hit him in the eye and kicked him in the groin with all her might, but it didn't give her the short break she had counted on. He hit her in the gut with violent force, and she almost lost her breath but was somehow able to remain upright. She had to get to the bedside table. She punched his throat while he almost cracked her rib. Now truly furious she threw herself back to the wall and fumbled after the bedside table. He was beating her senseless when she finally managed to open the drawer and get her hands on the pistol. Staggering, she pointed the gun at him. He froze, for an instant, then grabbed her wrists so hard she thought they might break. She fired the gun straight into his thigh. His beat-up face was pure astonishment and made her feel utterly triumphant!

She heard Mr. Butler race up the stairs. Derrington was now bleeding furiously and could not move a limb.

"Mr. Butler, we may need an ambulance. And tell the neighbours that gunshot is nothing to be worried about!"

Phryne tied his hands and reluctantly put pressure on the wound which by now looked pretty serious. She wished she had shot him in the heart, but she wouldn't be able to save those girls from within a prison cell. The ambulance arrived promptly and Derrington was gone before she knew it.

She couldn't feel her body ache; she was too high on adrenaline. She couldn't feel anything.

"Are you sure you don't want me to clean up in here, miss?", Mr Butler asked?

"No thank you, I'll do it myself."

"Are you quite alright, miss?"

"Just a…miscalculated risk", said Phryne assuredly.

"At least let me see to that". He pointed to her swollen eye and bleeding lip.

"Nothing to worry about. Go and get yourself some sleep, Mr. B". The butler closed her door quietly and went downstairs.

She put on another sheet over the bloodstained bed, changed into a different night robe and slumped down in bed. She tried to calm her uneven breathing. She could feel Derrington beating her, seeing him raise his arm… …and she tried to block it out. She didn't want to admit it but she felt shaken. Deeply so. No one had beaten her since Rene, which she'd made sure to forget. And she hadn't let anyone do that to her since then. She was angry with herself for not foreseeing it, for being so stupid. But most of all for barely getting anything useful out of him.

One o'clock. She eventually drifted away to sleep, but her dreams were full of memories long repressed.

... / ...

 _At City South Police Station the following morning_

"Morning, sir."

"Morning, Collins."

" I've just read the report from the men on duty last night. Very uneventful, sir. It says: Mr. Derrington went to the gymnasium, spent the night with lady friend and ended up in hospital with a bullet in his leg."

"You call that uneventful, Collins?"

"I just meant, he didn't do anything illegal, sir."

"Is he badly injured?"

"Not badly enough. But the hospital says he must stay there at least three months."

"Good. We'd better tell Miss Fisher he won't be abusing girls for quite some time."

He was surprised she wasn't already bouncing about his office at this hour. She was usually in before he even knew there was anything going on. Collins seemed to read his mind.

"It was Friday yesterday, sir. She might have been out all night, Miss Fisher."

"Out?"

"She likes going out, doesn't she?" Jack ignored his question.

"...I talked to one of the officers on duty last night. He did a bit of digging on his own and seems to have found a link between our Derrington and the owner of the gymnasium. He has previous convictions. I think we should bring him in, Collins."

... / ...

Phryne woke up feeling like hell. The February sun was hurting her eyes behind the curtains. She lifted her head from the pillow. It was impossible to see through the swelling of her left eye. Her whole body was aching and felt incredibly stiff.

Dot knocked on the door with the breakfast tray. _She couldn't see her like this._ She buried her face in the pillow.

"Just leave the tray and call on Mr. B, will you Dot?", murmured Phryne.

"Yes miss."

 _What would she tell Dot and Jane? No, she couldn't have them knowing. Jane had been so very upset that time when Phryne had come home with a blooded nose. Her now black eye, cracked lips and a bleeding eyebrow would make Jane unnecessarily worried. Being reckless when living alone was one thing, but Phryne didn't want anyone worrying about her. She would have to send her and Dot away until at least her facial injuries were healed._

"Miss, you asked for me…"  
"I need you to send away the girls.

"Where, miss?"

"Anywhere. Can't have them see me like this for a couple of days."

"Werribee beaches, perhaps?"  
"That would be splendid in this heat."

"However, it will be hard to explain to them why you won't see them before they leave, miss

That was true…she had to cover up her face somehow. Rummaging around her dressing-table she found a pack for the face and put on thick layer of grey goo. A slice of cucumber concealed the shiner.

Jane was talking to Mr. Butler when Phryne came downstairs.

"Phryne, I don't understand why we must go right now."

"Because I'm telling you, Jane."

"That's no answer", Jane protested. "Something's happened, hasn't it? Is it the case?!".

"No…I just thought you girls could do with a real vacation. It's summer and no fun being cooped up in this house every day. I just have to close this investigation with the Inspector.

"If only you could come with us", said Jane disappointedly.

"I really wish I could…" Jane thought she sounded tired…but she believed she was sincere.

"Bert and Cec, will you take them there? Take my car", Phryne insisted.

"'Course miss, said Bert. Come on ladies."

Mr. Butler turned to Phryne when everyone was out the door.

"I hope you won't be sending away me too, miss. I promise I won't ask any questions. Although, I feel I should advise you to report it to the police, a man like that shouldn't go unpunished.

"Oh, I intend to punish him, but not for this, said Phryne darkly.

"But he could go to jail for this"

"Not without me witnessing.

"I see, miss.

 _And not without everyone finding out._

Last night's events had left her in a state of irresolution and uneasiness, and it wouldn't go away. She went upstairs to take a bath, but she was interrupted by the telephone.

"The Inspector for you, miss".

Jack! How could she have forgotten! He couldn't see her like this. He would look at her with those painfully kind eyes and make her lose her brave face. Or lock her up for sheer recklessness to get her out of harm's way. She just couldn't see him. It was one thing to have dalliance with a passing acquaintance; Jack had been liberal enough to accept that, but to seduce a prime suspect turning out to be a sadist was something else entirely. Phryne doubted Jack would look favourably upon that, even though she did it for the sake of those poor girls.

She picked up the telephone.

"Jack".

"Miss Fisher. We've had an interesting development in our case. Well, two actually."

"Oh, do tell."

"It's something better seen with your own eyes. ...I thought you'd already be down at the station..., Jack added.

"Can't you tell me over the telephone?"

"Eh...yes. Yes of course...We won't have to worry about Derrington for some time now.

"And why is that?", asked Phryne, overacting her tone of surprise. Jack thought she was mocking him.

"He's in for a long convalescence at the hospital after being shot in the leg."

"Excellent! Do we still award men bravery awards? Whoever shot Derrington deserves a medal!

"Indeed, especially if it was a woman."

"A woman?" Now she was truly surprised. _Did he know she had shot him, he couldn't! Then it hit her they'd been shadowing him. How stupid,_ _stupid_ _of her to forget that! Her honey trap seemed all the more foolhardy in retroflex...she'd invited Derrington to her house without a thought on him being shadowed._

"Apparently he was staying with a lady friend last night". _So he did not know._ Phryne sighed, relieved. But he might find out soon if he read the reports from last night, or decided to inquire after the identity of this mysterious woman. She was getting apprehensive.

"What was the second development?", she quickly asked.

"We have Derrington's right hand man in for questioning, and Collins has dug up some dirt on him.

"Well done!" Phryne couldn't help but feeling excited.

"I thought you might want to question him", Jack said, invitingly.

"I do" said Phryne before stopping mid-sentence.

Jack paused. _She didn't sound like she meant it. She sounded different altogether._

"I'm just not sure I can make it", Phryne explained.

"Oh. Right". Jack sounded disappointed.

He had counted on her showing up at the station earlier in the morning, or at least sneaking into the interview room, as usual. _Could she be angry with him, somehow? Had he been short with her yesterday?_ Before he had the chance to ask her she said:  
"I'll call you when I've sorted this out – just a small domestic problem. Goodbye, Inspector." And she hung up.

She had to get a grip on herself. That was clumsily handled. If she couldn't keep herself together when merely hearing his voice, how would she stay neutral when meeting him? He was so observant, even on the telephone. But she could not avoid him forever if she wanted to be part of the case.

She went to her bedroom and tried to sweep away all traces of Derrington as best she could. She changed the sheets, emptied the gun of bullets and straightened the carpet. It felt better doing something with her bare hands, but she couldn't shrug off that feeling of….shame almost….and….. Ashamed that she'd been so absent-minded that she forgot they had a watch on him. And ashamed she'd let him get to her.…She was too good at pushing things from her mind, and now they came back to her with intense force, just like she knew they would. He'd been vicious. She hadn't understood how much it had affected her until now. She tried to focus on the physical pain instead of her thoughts. The only other feeling overpowering her was the desperate wish for Jack not to find out.

She took a long bath and put on her midnight blue dress and sun hat. Her left eye was now double the size and made her look like a blind panda bear. This was so inconvenient! She should have made sure he only hit her below the throat. She applied large amounts of powder to conceal the cuts and scrapes but there's only so much powder can do. The dark purple lipstick made it impossible to spot her bleeding lip, but the shiner still looked hideous. Phryne thanked the heavens for summer and sunglasses, put her large round pair on, and then remembered she'd forgotten to put soothing ointment on the scrapes. The doorbell rang. Applying the powder had taken ages, so she went downstairs instead. Must be Bert and Cec returning from Werribee, though they usually took the kitchen entrance. Phryne opened the door.

"Jack!". She couldn't help but smiling.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything", he said, hesitantly. Not until now did it hit him she might have had a male visitor staying overnight. Why else would she have sent away Jane and Dot, like Collins told him.

"Not at all. I was just on my way to you." His mere presence instantly made her feel better. He studied her face...and she held her breath. He didn't seem to notice anything

"I just came by to see how you were". She felt a quiet warmth spread inside her.

"You sounded...different on the telephone, he inquired.

"I'm fit as a fiddle. All domestic problems solved", she smiled. Her face was unreadable behind the sunglasses. But she did not seem cross with him.

"Give me a minute, Inspector."

She snuck into the parlour and washed down some hydrocodone with a large brandy.

"I'm ready to go". They walked down the front steps to the street.

"Let's take your car! And you can drive."

Slightly baffled, Jack went over the passenger side and opened the door for her. Phryne thought he'd better drive so he didn't look under her sunglasses.

The sun was blazing from an endless blue sky and it was already hot inside the motorcar. He drove though the alleyways towards the city centre. Phryne was pleased to finally get out of the house, and leaned against the window, watching him steer through milk carts and horse cabs. His fingers were quite long, she hadn't noticed before, as they moved around the wheel...

She was lost in thoughts. _Did he know how much it had meant for her to have him by her side when they found Janey's body? She did not think she would have been able to bear it alone...he had been a great support to her at the time._ She caught herself staring at him. He looked back at her with his calm, open face and smiled. She smiled back...he didn't look away. She feared he might see the shiner from where he sat if they didn't break eye contact...

"Eyes on the road, Jack".

"Since when are you keen on road safety, Miss Fisher?"

... / ...

Jack parked outside the entrance. When getting out of the car the door hit her in the ribs and the pain almost knocked her to the ground.

"Miss Fisher?"

"Bloody... heels! cried Phryne. "I'll murder them!" She managed to get up straight and walk into the station before Jack could give her his arm.

She didn't take the spot she normally occupied in his office, on the corner of his desk so he offered her the wooden chair gleaming in the sunlight.

"I'd rather stand", she replied, staying in the shadows.

He nodded and took a seat.

"I've interviewed Derrington's right hand man and he has a valid alibi for the time of the murder, and he hasn't given us anything to implicate Derrington. But Collin's got something on him and hopefully we can blackmail him into telling on his boss."

"What's Hugh been doing?"

"Collins!"  
"Yes sir. We've just had a report come in. They've found another body".

... / ...

 _At the morgue_

"Mac!"

"Hello Phrynekins".

"I called Dr. MacMillan in", Jack said.

"What a nice surprise. Why?"

 _Because you don't get on with the other pathologist and I want this investigation to run smoothly. And her presence might make you less upset about the victim, thought Jack._

"Because we make a great team", he answered.

Mac folded back the sheet covering the victim and stepped back. Phryne looked at the body. It was another girl, older than the first victim, the same age Phryne would have been if she'd been killed instead of Janey. _How sad to die so young._ Jack looks from the body to her, and sensing her distress, regretted bringing her to the morgue.

Mac took over:

"Severe defence wounds to the arms and defensive bruises across the body. Our perpetrator should have some bruising too. Cause of death: a deep knife wound to the lower abdomen. Death occurred instantaneously sometime last night. She'd also been sexually abused."

"Oh no...", Phryne said faintly. _She was only glad the girl was dead, so she didn't have to live long knowing she'd been raped... A least, in death she was free of him, who had abused her..._ Jack thought she looked almost forlorn, wondering what she must be thinking. She looked miles away.

Mac looked at Phryne.

"Remind you of someone?"

"Elle sera toujours libre. Libre elle est née et libre elle mourra…"

"Someone non-fictional…". Mac turned to Jack: "Carmen", she explained.

"She looks like the other girl", Jack said.

"Correct. Her sister."

"So it couldn't have been him", Phryne concluded. "Derrington. He was with a lady friend last night, didn't you say?"

"Only if we assume she was the one who shot him. If this girl was with them, she could've shot him and he could've killed her for it", Jack suggested.

 _Don't dare say we need to talk to his lady friend, Phryne thought._

"We obviously need to know more about this woman".

 _Damn._

"Didn't Hugh tell you?", Phryne lied, "he _did_ check up on her, turned out she was a high toff without criminal record who knew nothing about his dubious activities."

"No...no he didn't". Jack looked a little perplexed.

"So he can't have killed her since he was most likely alone with his lady friend", Phryne went on. " – and besides, the sister's body was found were, Mac?"

"In the coolies".

"Exactly, 20 miles from where he was last seen, and you tell me how he moved a corpse 20 miles between getting shot in the leg and being driven to hospital in an ambulance?"

"The woman could have moved the body for him...", said Jack, trying to keep up.

"After she'd just shot him?" Phryne said sceptically.

"I don't know why you're so determined she shot him?", he protested.

"Any woman alone with him would have."

"Like the sister", Jack teased.

"It can't have been the sister because Mac can tell you she died at the scene where she was found, right Mac?

"Yes".¨

Jack chuckled. Phryne looked very pleased with herself.

"Admit you were just guessing", he said.

"She was", Mac replied.

... / ...

Back at the station Collins was busy going through the statements for the fishermen who had found the last victim in the coolies near the river Yarra.

"The murders are definitely linked, the first girl was also found near the river", he noted. "If they are shipping the girls as cargo to America, perhaps they smuggle them on the river to a ship waiting in the estuary to go unnoticed..?"  
"Good thinking, Collins, it's a theory worth testing. I'll need a list of boat owners letting boats on the river or fishermen frequenting the river lands and estuary".

"Right, sir."

Jack looked through the files on Quale, Derrington's right hand man. "We're not making much progress elsewhere... maybe we should pay Derrington a visit?" He didn't sound very enthusiastic about it. "We could tell him we've got Quale sweating and that we know the murders are linked? He must have had something to do with the first girl, at least."

Phryne agreed. Jack looked at her, thinking. _She still wore sunglasses despite the lobby being quite dim. It must be yet another fashion he failed to see the meaning of...sunglasses indoors. He wished she would take them off so he could see her green eyes...it was much easier reading her face then._

"Perhaps you should see him at the hospital, you might be able to coax more out of him than me." Phryne didn't see that coming. She felt her anger building.

"I don't have any leverage over him." she replied slightly irritated.

"But he finds you...interesting"

"What do you suggest, that I work my charms on him so he'll turn soft?", she said, all revved up.

"I didn't suggest anythi...

"Or just let him ravish me there and then!"

"What? No..." He looked bewildered. "I would never do that.", he said sincerely.

She calmed down.

"I know".

"I would never use you to get information like that. Or let you use yourself", he added.

"I know, Jack," she sighed. She gave him an apologetic smile, feeling she had overacted. She was glad she could hind behind her glasses. He would kill her with his kindness.

The telephone rang. Collins answered.

"City South, Constable Collins speaking! ...yes...yes...O'Slattery you say...thank you, we'll check him up." He turned to Jack. "The list of potential boat lenders is getting extensive, but we have an Irishman named O'Slattery who's looking dodgy. Lives in a mansion up in Woolloomooloo.

Phryne looked at Jack. "I've always liked the sound of Woolloomooloo", she winked.

The drive to Woolloomooloo was quite long, and Phryne didn't insist upon driving.

There were still no sign of clouds on the horizon though it was nearly tea-time.

"It should be here somewhere", Jack said. Phryne caught a glimpse of a white mansion behind the trees and Jack turned into the allée leading up it. It was surrounded by a vast garden in full bloom...rhododendrons and azaleas in every colour were reflected in the quiet pond before the main entrance.

"Isn't this glorious!", Phryne beamed, getting out of the car to inhale the fragrance of the flowers. People could say it was silly; she didn't care, but seeing this beauty, smelling it, made her feel alive.

"Look at this Jack, they've even got vinca minor, aren't they divine?"

 _You are, he thought._

Her joy made him blissful.

Phryne wafted about the garden, her dark hair glimmering in the sun. The butler greeted them cordially, asked them to wait for Mr O'Slattery, then retreated to the house.

Phryne dragged Jack to a lush bush with golden flowers. "Smell these, Jack".

"Very nice." "Heavenly", she corrected. _Going out here was a great idea._

"You know flowers are like an art itself. They have meanings. You can send messages through them...a bouquet is like a whole letter." Jack looked amused.

"Hyacinth means sincerity. Ivy is fidelity. Rhododendron means beware! she said, pointing at the shrubbery covered in lilac flowers. "Begonia implies deep thoughts. Forget-Me-Not is obvious. A white rose is purity, but together with a red one it means unity...like those roses over there, the ones planted in lines."

"Isn't that a poem...", Jack mused.

Phryne raised an eyebrow. "You tell me".

"...unity...something about parallel lines..."

"These red carnations only remind me of Carmen", she replied.

It suddenly dawned on Jack. "It's by Andrew Marvell, I think...about thwarted lovers..."

Phryne stopped admiring the carnations and turned to him, waiting curiously.

"They go about their lives – like parallel lines – never to touch, never to join.", he recited.

It made her feel sad... "So very devoid of hope", she said. He looked thoughtful.

She picked a Carmen flower. "This is the flower Carmen threw at Don José", she said, thinking.

"Did it mean something, the flower?"

"I suppose it meant...I haven't thought about it. But she threw it at him, as in jest. Like a glove is thrown to ignite a duel." _It hadn't occurred to her until now that it could symbolize challenging him to a duel._ "A duel to the death." Jack made a mental note to listen to the opera after work." Her death", she mumbled.

No, she couldn't let Carmen too dampen her spirits.

The butler had returned. He showed them to a table in sun where O'Slattery was waiting. He was a stout man dressed in a light linen suit.

"You have a very beautiful garden, Mr. O'Slattery, said Phryne while eying his butler offering refreshments. _He seemed nervy_ , Phryne thought, accepting a glass of what appeared to be lemonade.

"We need to ask you some questions about your business.", Jack said with his deep, serious inspector voice.

Phryne withdrew quietly to examine O'Slattery's telephone at the desk on the porch, while Jack continued to question him. Nothing suspicious. She went through the papers on the desk; there were a lot of them. She searched through the drawers while Jack kept him occupied. Nothing there.

It was getting hot in the sun. Phryne blamed the butler for not placing the tea table in the shadows. The lemonade didn't help much seeing as she had way too long sleeves for this kind of heat...but what choice did she have. She should have chosen her linen dress, though, instead of this long blue sleeved one, but blue was the only colour she'd identified with this morning. And she could now see that there was no shadow to be found at this side of the house in hearing distance of Jack and O'Slattery.

Phryne was getting irritatingly flustered and dizzy. She'd always prided herself on her ability to avoid fainting, even when she felt dizziness creep up on her, but she wasn't used to this persistent light-headiness.

The interview was taking ages due to O'Slattery being difficult. _Couldn't Jack wrap it up faster?_ She was getting impatient, although she knew it was only because of the heat. Her head was definitely getting heavier...the hydrocodone was apparently wearing off. She went down the porch, still within cooee.

If only she could wear a bathing suit instead.

Black spots clouded her vision.

"Jack..." He thought she was just interrupting him to ask O'Slattery something.

"Jack!" He was instantly by her side. She blacked out and he caught her as she fell. She looked terribly pale. He scooped her up his arms and carried her into the mansion. Her soft light body felt warm against his chest. She looked like she was sleeping. He tried several doors before he found a bathroom. She turned her head towards his arm. "Phryne, can you hear me?" he said, anxiously.

She moaned. Gently, he put her in the bathroom window so she could lean on the cold stone wall. He still had his arm around her waist as he soaked his handkerchief under a tap and swabbed her forehead. "Are you awake?" he asked. "Yes", she mumbled. It was hard swabbing her head under the hat and the glasses so he removed them. Her right eye looked up at him and the other one was invisible behind an enormous purple bruise.

He felt ice-cold inside. She was utterly bruised up, he could see several scratches under her fringe, and her eyebrow was bleeding too. _How could someone have beaten her so viciously? Like she was a bag of sand._ She looked so small and diminished all of a sudden, as if whoever had beaten her had taken something from her. He must have hit her again and again... He imagined him raising his arm at her to strike... It made him _sick_...

"Phryne..." he whispered. He wished he could make her pain go away.

"Don't say anything...", she said, fearing his reaction. He looked miserable; his eyes all pain and sorrow. She tried to meet his gaze but it felt like he looked right into her and it made her self-conscious.

"It's just scratches" she said divertingly.

He saw that image of her again taking beat after beat.

"No..."

"Could you get me some water?"

He seemed reluctant to let go of her, but he had to release his arm still supporting her to reach the glasses on the sink. He poured her a glass when there was a knock on the door.

"Is the lady alright, sir?", O'Slattery asked.

"Perfectly!", Phryne replied. Jack's eyes disagreed violently.

O'Slattery's footsteps disappeared.

"Do you still feel faint?"

"No", Phryne lied, emptying a third glass. "But I've obviously turned into a hippo. This heat is killing me". He didn't smile.

"Who did this to you?", he asked quietly. She avoided his face.

"Just a...man". She looked out of the window. "I provoked him."

"Don't say that", he winced.

 _It must have happened last night...It must have been the man she spent the night with...How could he! That's why she'd been so late this morning._

"Are we finished with O'Slattery?, she said, standing up. He frowned.

"I should drive you back. Let me carry you to the car?"

"Not a chance." He silently cursed her stubbornness. But she took his arm as they walked out of the house.

He was silent as they rode back to town. He couldn't look at her face without seeing her being beaten senseless by a raging man. Dark thoughts kept invading his mind.

"Jack, look out! The horse!". He turned quickly to the right, barely avoiding a collision with the rider.

"Why don't you let me drive", Phryne suggested.

"You can barely see through that eye", he replied hoarsely.

She put on the sunglasses to prevent his concerned looks.

"I'll drop you off at home", he said, before remembering it had all happened there.

"No."

"The hospital then."

"I'm perfectly fine, Jack, honestly, and Hugh needs us...

"You might have a concussion", he interrupted.

"Or just a headache, my head's been splitting all day, she admitted. "And I often feel light-headed when that happens."

She was relieved when he took the main road leading to the station. The dizziness had finally succumbed but the pain in her ribs was increasing. The hydrocodone was definitely out of her system, she should have brought some with her from the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Jack opened the door for her and watched her arranging her tousled fringe to hide the bruises. "Don't breathe a word to Hugh, he'll only tell Dot." He nodded his consent.

"There you are sir, what took you so long?", Hugh asked.

"Have you got that list sorted?", Jack replied.

"Almost, sir".

Jack took Phryne into his office, moved the chair into the shadow and made her sit down.

Hugh showed his face in the door, addressing him. "I forgot to tell you, sir, Derrington has filed a complaint against his female attacker." Phryne's ribs ached again… _bloody bastard, she would choke him. He was going to pay._

"Could you wait her, please?"

"Of course", she answered obligingly.

"I just have to see to this", Jack said, apologetic. "I won't let Collins in here", he said, closing the door behind him.

Phryne went to his desk and opened his drawers. _Where did he keep his liquor? He must have some._ She found a bottle of scotch in a cupboard and helped herself to a glass. The burning sensation down her throat was a welcoming distraction to her sore body.

She heard Jack approaching the door. He found her where he'd left her, in the chair.

"You should've had that seen to" he remarked, looking at her face. He took down a tin box from the book shelf. She watched him open a tube with soothing ointment and dip some cotton in iodine.

"Be prepared", is that your motto, Jack?", she said with a joyful smile.

 _I wasn't prepared for this, he thought, you being manhandled._

"Do you want me to take off my sunglasses" she went on, putting them in her pocket. He leaned against the desk and facing her began to dab her left eyebrow with the iodine-drenched cotton. The open cut stung, but Phryne kept still. "I thought you were a soldier during the war, not a nurse", she said, pretending to sound alarmed. He gave her a quiet smile and put some ointment on his fingers. With gentle strokes he smeared the cuts and bruises on her temple with the cream. She stopped speaking. His fingers felt so light and calm against her skin…

He looked at her swollen eye, too sore to touch.

"You should put this on it", he said, holding out the tube with ointment.

"You do it. I won't be able to see what I'm doing", she insisted.

She closed her eyes.

He applied a thin layer as carefully as he could.

Phryne winced. It hurt like hell.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No", she smiled weakly, opening her eyes. _You never have._

He put on the last of the cream and she felt tears burning under her eyelids. The pain was too much, and perhaps his gentle care too. She tried to blink them away when they came, but they kept wetting her cheeks.

Without thinking he put his hand on her cheek and dried her tears with his thumb, slowly. Surprised, she looked into his eyes, relishing his touch. He met her gaze, tenderly. Her tears had stopped falling but his hand lingered on her cheek. He wanted it to last forever.

Suddenly remembering himself, he quickly withdrew his hand. He became aware of how loudly his heart beat and turned away from her as to avoid eye-contact. He put back the tin box on the shelf.

She should have put her hand on his before took it away. She had seen that same glow in his eyes he had when he kissed here in the café months ago. She'd almost forgotten how it made her chest tingle.

Collins was at the door. "I know you told me not to disturb you, sir…"

"It's alright Collins, you may come in." Phryne flung her sunglasses on.

"One of the fishermen I spoke to when you where at O'Slattery told me Quale had hired a barge of him last week", Collins said.

"If that is the barge Derrington and Quale used to transport the girls downstream we should search it, there could be evidence of the first victim, if she was killed aboard.", Jack said.

"Why don't you tell Quale we've already found some incriminating evidence, say the murder weapon on the barge, and we can link it to him", Phryne suggested. "And convince him Derrington has accused him of killing her. I'll do it, he won't expect me to lie, he has never met me!"

"Shouldn't you take it easy, rest a while? Jack objected.

"Are you unwell, miss?

"No, Hugh. It's just a headache." She turned to Jack. "I missed my turn with him this morning; I need to sit in on this interview."

"That's no argument."

"He's right, miss." Phryne was unused to them teaming up on her; Hugh usually took her side. "If you're not well… Hugh continued…

"Will you two stop fussing? I'll...call Mac and let her assess me, happy?

Jack disapproved but felt he could not stop her.

"Good", she concluded. "Hugh, why don't you bring me the file on Quale; and you can start on Dot's luncheon hamper, Inspector, while I telephone Mac. I can tell you like duck", she winked.

She picked up the telephone and the boys left her in the office.

"Could you put me through to Preston Women's Hospital, please?...thank you.

I need to speak with Doctor MacMillan. Tell her it's Phryne Fisher"…

"Mac!"

"Phryne."

"I need pain medication, what do you have?"

"Hydrocodone."

"Well I need something stronger".

"Hydrocodone _is_ quite strong."

"It's rubbish, and clearly wasted on me.", she asserted.

"You've mixed it with brandy, haven't you?", Mac sighed.

"Isn't that supposed increase the effect?, Phryne asked innocently.

"Phryne, you know nothing about analgesics."

"How about Laudanum?"

"Definitely stronger."

"That's what I need."

"You need to stay out of trouble", she rebuked.

"Don't be impossible, Mac", Phryne said impatiently.

"I shouldn't ask what you've been up to…

"It's just this once, this is an exception."

"But I can't prescribe Laudanum to you unless you tell me what kind of pain you have."

"Painful pain. It hurts. A lot."

"I can _just_ picture you getting addicted to it", teased Mac.

"Just give it to me", Phryne laughed, half-desperate.

"Remind me to mention you're an alcoholic mythomaniac in your obituary.

"Thank you, Mac! I'll come by and pick it up."

Very pleased to be getting pain relief she joined Jack who was busy unpacking her hamper. He looked famished, poor man.

"We're lucky", she noted, "I wasn't sure Dot would bring me lunch today, but she must have left it here on the way to the beach. Oh, and there's apple tart too, what a treat!" Phryne exclaimed.

Jack didn't know where to start. "You can take the whole apple cake, you deserve it", she prompted. He really was quite slender, she hoped he wasn't malnourished.

"No one's feeding you properly, we have to see to that", she declared, handing him a slice of bread.

"You haven't eaten since noon either, have you?", he said. "No wonder you fainted."

"That's unfair. I was just trying to get your attention, Jack", she joked. _And succeeded, he thought._

"What did Mac say?" he asked, stuffing himself with duck.

"I'll pop by the hospital and see her after our picnic".

"Good, then you'll be under proper care", Jack said, content.

 _Then I'll be under Laudanum, she corrected._

"I prefer detective care", she replied, tilting her head, gazing at him. He cleared his throat at the memory of how good it had felt to touch her face, finding it hard to look at her.

"I'll drive you there." It sounded like a polite order. She deliberated it.

"Promise me you won't talk to Quale before I get back? I won't be long".

"We'll get on to the fishermen in the meantime", he assured her.

After finishing their meal, Jack took her to the Women's Hospital. Phryne hoped this would put an end to his constant worry so she could get rid of the dark glasses without him showering her with concerned looks. It really did look much worse than it felt.

"Call me if you want me to come and get you", he insisted.

"Call me if anything exciting happens", she countered

.

She went inside the high grey building and climbed to the third floor. It felt like sanctuary being at a place where wounds and bruises were normality and she didn't have to feel pitied.

"I'm looking for Doctor MacMillan".

"Miss Fisher?"

"That's me."

"Second corridor, room 713."

"Thank you, sister."

Mac was preparing some tincture of sorts when she walked in.

"You're a rock Mac, how I've been _yearning_ for that Laudanum!"

"So, what happened to you this time?", she asked.

Phryne removed her glasses. Mac frowned and waited for an explanation.

"You know how it is…things can get rather…intimate", she shrugged.

"I doesn't look too good…"

"Don't you start as well", Phryne begged, "the Inspector's been at it all day."

"In a most gentlemanlike manner, no doubt." Mac said.

"Naturally".

"Well, first I want to examine you."

"That's not what we agreed", Phryne protested.

"No examination, no Laudanum". Mac was adamant.

"Fine", she groaned.

"So...", her expression all doctor-like. "Do you have a headache?"

"Yes."

"Any vomiting?"

"Nay."

"Fainting?"

"It was just the heat", Phryne answered reluctantly. "I've had to wear _this_ all day", wanting sympathy.

"Have you eaten?"

"Only a moment ago. Ain't I a good patient?", she beamed.

"Pregnant?"

"Mac!"

"I'm the doctor, answer the question."

"You know I'm not."

"No intercourse last night?"

"No."

"Last week?"

"No."

Mac raised an eyebrow.

"You're the first person I would tell Mac, and I do protect myself."

"Family planning isn't as effective as you think."

"I'll christen her Mac – even if it's a boy." Mac smiled.

"If you must know, I haven't been with anyone for six months or so."

"You should join the order."

"And become a saint!" They would canonize me immediately!" Phryne said, angelic.

Mac listened to her chest with her stethoscope and scribbled on her clip-board.

"Is that really necessary? It looks rather official", Phryne commented.

"This is a real medical examination, in case you hadn't noticed" she explained. "Alcoholic intake: way too high" she wrote, looking stern.

"Now you're exaggerating", Phryne pointed out.

"Yes, but it's much more fun. Why don't you lie down?"

Phryne objected.

"On the bed, now!" she ordered. "Dif-fi-cult patient", she spelled out, scrawling.

It felt heavenly to lie down. Mac didn't have to tell her to relax.

"I need to examine your chest; can you bare some skin for me?"

"Why is everybody obsessed with my body", said Phryne, thinking of Derrington's groping, and Jack's hand on her cheek, lingering. She unhooked the dress and pulled it down to her waist.

"I can see why you wanted Laudanum...", Mac said, her voice shaking.

Phryne looked down on her body. There were large bruises all over her chest and stomach making her doubt the colour of her skin. She had avoided assessing her injuries when she got dressed this morning, but now she did...it looked pretty horrifying. "Wasn't I born white, Mac? Sadly, I'm not black, but neither am I white", she stated.

"It's no laughing matter, Phryne". Mac looked very troubled. She took the syringe with Laudanum and gave her the injection. Phryne exhaled in relief and realised how tense her body had been all day.

"Thank you, Mac", she smiled weakly.

"Who dare to hurt my dearest friend?...my beautiful, foolish friend". She stitched up the cut in her eyebrow with a deft hand.

"I'll make sure he'll regret it", Phryne said.

Mac listened to her chest again and traced her ribs with her hand.

"Does it hurt here?"

"Oh yes".

"But does it hurt more than...for example here?, she asked.

"Ow!"

"He has nearly broken your rib, the bastard", said Mac, her eyes dark.

 _So that's why it hurt whenever she took a breath._

"I'm surprised the Inspector hasn't taken you off the case."

"I take that as an insult", Phryne replied.

"Yes you've been graced with dangerously good persuasiveness.

"That's what I call a compliment!"

"But the Inspector can be quite determined too..."  
"I bribed him with food" she explained proudly.

"Well, who can resist you", Mac said amused. "I see you've put ointment on your eye, I'm impressed. It's not like you to look after yourself.

"I made sure I got Laudanum though, didn't I? Any chance of a refill?"

Mac laughed. "No. And no more alcohol", she scolded.

"Yes, doctor!".

Mac applied a yellowy cream to her bruises. She looked up at her friend.

"You have to witness against him so he ends up in jail for this, Phryne".

"Why do that when we can lock him in for good?"

"He's not involved in the case, is he?" asked Mac with alarmingly wide eyes.

Phryne tried to keep a straight face.

"He is...Don't tell me he's the killer? My god Phryne, what did you do!? Did you think you could take him on all by yourself?!", she cried.

"I was never in any real danger, I handled the situatio...

"He could have killed you!"

"Mac, I'm alright", said Phryne softly, squeezing her arm.

"Promise me you'll witness" she said, looking straight into her eyes."

"...then Jack will find out", Phryne moaned.

"If you don't I'll tell him myself."

"You wouldn't do that." She sounded uncertain. Mac helped her on with the dress. "Please don't Mac."

"You're free to go", she said quietly.

Very reluctantly she gave in.

"Alright I'll witness"..." But don't tell Jack. Please".

"I won't.

"Come here, Phrynekins", she smiled bleakly. They embraced. Phryne whimpered. "Oh your ribs, I'm sorry!" Mac said, releasing her.

"Dr. MacMillan, we need you urgently!" someone shouted from the corridor.

"Go and save some lives", Phryne said and opened the door.

"I have a nightshift tonight; otherwise I would babysit you all evening."

"I'll try and survive nonetheless", she smiled."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Phryne walked back to the station whilst declaring passionate love for Laudanum.

There were no police vehicles outside the station and the lobby was empty... Hugh must be out somewhere. Jack was in his office.

"Quale", said Phryne, stepping in to his room, "Let's talk to him. According to his files he's previously been convicted for affray and forgery."

"What was Dr. MacMillan's verdict?", Jack asked, as if he hadn't heard her.

"She gave me a magical potion and I'm cured! Now, what have I missed? Where's the cavalry?"

"Down the river, Collins and the other boys are searching the barge. I've just been there, and they've already found a bullet lodged in the wooden deck."

"So the first girl _was_ shot aboard", said Phryne, eyes wide. "What kind of bullet was it?"

"It most likely belongs to a M1911 pistol."

 _She'd seen a M1911 pistol in someone's waistband...yes, in Quale's, when she went to the gymnasium last night to get in contact with Derrington._

"What do we have on Quale? You mentioned something about Hugh, digging and dirt before."

"Turns out his gymnasium is doing very well – he's counterfeiting money again.

When we told him we're on to him earlier today he finally started talking, but only confessed to hiring the barge and lending it to Derrington last week."  
"Does he have an alibi for last night?", Phryne asked, sitting down on his desk.

"Not really. But his alibi for the first murder remains airtight."

She was relieved Jack hadn't investigated Derrington's lady friend while she was gone. Mac would probably not carry out her threat in a couple of days, and she was too busy at the hospital anyway, but she had to make sure Jack wasn't on to her.

"What did you do with the complaint Derrington filed against his female attacker?", she said apprehensively.

"I threw it into the wastebasket." She couldn't hide her astonishment.

"Whatever she did to him, she was perfectly justified to shoot him", Jack explained. "Derrington is the only one who ought to be punished here, what I can see." Phryne wouldn't argue with that. _Good, then there was no chance of Jack finding out._

"We've sorted out the list of fishermen and boatmen, and several witnesses have identified a steamboat anchoring near the estuary at strange hours of the day."

"So Hugh was right, they take the girls down the river", Phryne said.

"It seems that way. I've transferred some of the men guarding Derrington to have men watching the boat, and I plan to put an officer undercover as a stoker, hopefully before next Friday.

 _Friday...amidst all fuss, Phryne had completely forgotten to tell Jack what Derrington had let slip. Before he'd got suspicious of her he'd asked when they could meet again and she had suggested next Friday. He implied he would be occupied the whole day. He was definitely up to something...maybe a new boatload of girls would be shipped out that day. She couldn't tell Jack without revealing her source, and it was too risky to pretend Collins had told her. Besides, she had almost a week to do something about Derrington's plans, next Friday wasn't really impending. She'd have to come up with a way to tell Jack later._

"Quale is in the interview room.", Jack said, waiting for her.

"Have you checked if he's got bruising to his arms or...

"Yes, he does, and they look fresh." They looked at each other. Quale was now the prime suspect for the second murder. They went in to the room where he was sitting. His grey hair looked grimy and his small eyes fell on Phryne. He didn't recognise her from the gymnasium; fortunately she hadn't made his acquaintance.

"Who is she?"

"A lady detective", Jack replied, pulling out the chair for Phryne.

"So, Mr. Quale", Phryne said, flicking through Mac's report on the first victim. "A clean shot through the head", she read out loud. "Do you know that officers are searching through the barge you _presumably_ lent Derrington while we speak, and they have already found the bullet that killed a young girl. "You owe a M1911 gun, is that right?"

"I might. But _I_ didn't kill her", he protested.

"It won't be easy for you to contradict us since the murder weapon was a M1911 pistol."

Quale swallowed and fiddled with his tie. Very reluctantly he said:

"It was Derrington. He took my gun and shot her, just like that."

Jack put Quale back in a cell to await court proceedings for counterfeit.

"How did you know he owned the pistol?" he asked Phryne, impressed.

"It's a complicated process of intuition, elimination and guessing – I didn't think it was Derrington's, she admitted.

"Because you don't think he would have shot her with his own gun?", he filled it.

"Exactly."

"Neither do I. I think Quale is telling the truth.

They went back to the office and put the files and papers were they belonged.

 _Great, Phryne thought. It felt good to know that the man she'd spent the night with was not only a sadist but a cold-blooded murderer as well._

The working day was over and Phryne went straight home, for once. The house felt strangely empty without everyone else, or perhaps it was just the thought of knowing she would be on her own the whole evening, and the go to sleep in a bed made for two. It felt like Derrington had tainted her room making her never want to sleep there again. Her thoughts strayed to Jack, wishing he were with her. If only he could lie beside her on the bed, nothing more, just stay there all night...they could just lie there, looking at each other...

It could never be.

She washed her face, changed into her black dressing gown and slumped into the divan, exhausted. She reached for the gramophone and put on _Sweet_ _Emmelina_ to liven herself up. ( watch?v=L2VDIrhaRmw) But Clarence Williams had barely torn off that clarinet solo when Phryne turned it off. Her body and mind was too tired to enjoy it...she lay down and dozed off directly.

"Sir?"

"Yes Collins"

"I thought I might accompany Dottie and Jane at Werribee. It's a long ride, but..."

"You could take your nephew's car then", Jack suggested, smiling to see if Collins would get the joke.

"...eh...my nephew is five, sir...?" Collins said hesitantly.

"I mean his toy car", Jack corrected himself. Collins raised his eyebrows.

" _Or_ you can take a police vehicle".  
"Thank you, sir! Just what I was about to ask you.".

Jack wondered...Collins was already on his way out. He hailed him in the lobby.

"Do you know where Miss Fisher went last night?".

"No, sir".

"You mentioned her going out..."

"Only that she might have gone out", Collins replied, waiting in the door way.

"Could you...could you ask Miss Williams where she went...or Jane?

"Yes sir."

"Thank you."

Jack had been calling all the jazz clubs, restaurants and public places in Melbourne where Phryne was a regular customer, but no one remembered seeing her anywhere. He had to find out who'd maltreated her. He knew she wouldn't tell him, but he had to find him. His instinct told me she'd been at home with him...in bed. How on earth would he be able to uncover his identity if that was the case? He hoped Collins might get something out of Dot at the beaches...it seemed like his only hope. Frustrated that there was nothing more he could do at the moment he locked the office and went to the gramophone store to get a record of _Carmen_.

Maybe he should have asked Phryne which version she preferred. He could just about hear her voice inside his head, as if she was standing right beside him: "You can't just _listen_ to Carmen, Jack; you have to see the real performance, to get the real thing". She was probably right but it was a bit late now...

...Or was it? He went to the counter and addressed the shopkeeper.

"Do you happen to know if Carmen is on stage tonight, by any chance?". He seriously doubted it.

"Yes sir, you're in luck, Clytie Mundy is doing her last performance at the Regent Theatre.

How fortunate! It had to be a sign. Jack called the ticket office from the station.

"Sold out, completely?" _Of course it was_.

"Could you tell me who've bought tickets in the stalls?" Jack asked. "It's a police matter." He tried to sound serious.

The man mentioned several names before Jack interrupted him. "Farrow, you said? Thank you, that will be all."

Just as he thought, Tom Farrow was still frequenting the theatre every Saturday. He picked up the telephone again.

"Thomas."

"Jack, good to hear from you!"

"I need a favour." Jack went straight to the point.

"Anything you say."

"I know you've got two tickets for tonight…

"Oh, yes, I'm taking this lovely lady to the theatre as a treat."  
"You never liked the theatre, Tom.", he remarked slightly amused.

"Well...no. But the ladies do…You mean you want them? Alright, then, I do owe you one.

"Excellent.", said Jack, very pleased.

Phryne was fast asleep when a vague noise crept into her consciousness. Ta-ta-ta.

It didn't cease...it sounded like...tapping. She looked at the cuckoo clock – seven! She'd been asleep for hours! Drowsy but refreshed she went out to the vestibule. Someone was outside the door.

"Miss Fisher?". She recognised the voice immediately. It was Jack's.

She skipped to the door and opened it.

"I didn't hear you knock, I'm sorry you head to wait", she apologized. Her hair was dishevelled and she was in her dressing gown. Her face looked natural and make-up free and he liked it. It softened her appearance.

"I've got two tickets for _Carmen_ this evening, front row. I thought you might want to join me?" he asked, his eyes bright.

"Oh yes, that would be lovely!" she beamed at him. How he'd gotten hold of the tickets she had no idea.

"Have you had dinner?" he asked.

"No...do we have time for it before it begins?"

"If we leave soon".

"Splendid! I just have to get dressed...and you too", she remarked.

"Oh. Right. If you insist." He had almost forgotten he must get changed.

"I do, Jack, this is a special occasion" she declared cheerfully. "And I can't resist a man in full fig". Her eyes twinkled.

He blinked and looked away.

"So, are you back here in half an hour?" she asked.

"Yes", he smiled.

She rushed upstairs to the wardrobe and pulled out a gleaming golden dress. She put on ivory silk gloves to conceal her bruised wrists and a black shawl with gold embroidery to cover her shoulders. Her golden bracelet and pendant went well with the dress. She reapplied ruby red lipstick and powder and told herself to sit on his left side so she would look at her more presentable eye. The absence of Laudanum made her body ache ferociously, but she could not get hold of Mac at the hospital...hydrocodone it is then, she thought, pouring herself a scotch to go with it. She had just brushed her teeth when she heard his motorcar approaching. She went out on the front step as Jack parked the car.

He went through her gate then stopped short. She looked radiant. She came sashing down the steps towards him, her eyes glowing, surpassing the lustre of her dress. He thought she'd looked so nice before, but now he could not take his eyes off her.

"Jack, this is marvellous, I'm so excited!"

He could only smile at her.

Phryne took his arm. He was looking as dapper as ever in his black tuxedo and black bow tie.

"You don't even know how _Carmen_ ends", she gasped, partly shocked, partly thrilled.

"How does it end?" he asked, escorting her to the motorcar.

"I can't tell you that! I won't ruin it for you", she promised.

Jack wondered how anything could possibly ruin this night.

They took a table at the Regent Theatre's restaurant. This was indeed a special occasion; they hadn't socialized off-duty before, if you didn't count Phryne's birthday party last month, or the occasional nightcap. She looked so full of life and her attention was solely on him, which was uncommon, but delightfully dazzling. He wasn't sure he deserved it. He hadn't been sure she would've accepted his invitation, but she did look well now, not as pale anymore. She had done something to her black eye, it was all glittery and golden; and he could almost forget she'd been beaten.

Phryne decided not to court disaster and abstained from drinking wine to the main course. Jack seemed to be in a very good mood and looked relaxed, much more relaxed than down the station. It wasn't like him to invite her to the opera and take her out this openly, but time and again he surprised her, with his words and his choice of action, brimming of things best kept unspoken. She wondered why he'd withdrawn his hand so quickly from her face in the office, though...like he regretted it.

They had barely finished the second course when the bell rang for the first time.

"I can't believe were going to see Clytie Mundy's last performance" Phryne said, still impressed with him getting the tickets. "You're going to adore her, she has this wonderfully rich and light voice!" she assured him. They strolled down the corridors covered with red wall-to-wall carpet, arm in arm. The theatre was packed and buzzing with expectation, although many came here only to socialize. They moved slowly through the crowd towards the stalls. Jack could see other men admiring her as they walked past, but tonight she was with him, which was a rare sensation. The orchestra tuned their instruments and they found their seats in the dress circle; Phryne to his left.

"How much of the opera have heard, did you say?" asked Phryne, letting go of his arm as they sat down.

"The first and second act, I think", he said, meeting her gaze. She seemed pleased with the response.

"The first half is the best" she smiled, and opened the leaflet with the libretto.

"I should have studied the libretto beforehand", he said, looking at her.

"Not to worry. I can translate for you," she replied, still smiling.

watch?v=tw_ccAPKUmM

The conductor raised his baton and the music exploded in the hall. Jack recognized the well-known themes immediately and was instantly caught up in the swiftness and ferventness of it. The overture ended and the curtain went up, revealing a Spanish town square with market traders and soldiers.

The beginning of the first act was slightly tedious until Carmen entered the stage twenty minutes in, demanding attention and getting it. With her vibrant voice and fervent charisma she drowned the orchestra and choir in a gloriously daring way – from this moment on it was all about her. It felt unusual with a play so intently focused on one single woman. The notes of the first aria, _L'amour est un oiseau rebelle,_ were suggestively slipping down in pitch, playfully accentuating Carmen's sensuality.

The orchestra suddenly hit an ominous triad when she turned her attention to the one man not overtly admiring her, Don José. The cellos slowly played a downward spiral, and then she threw her red carnation flower at him before leaving the stage. From this instant Don José was doomed.

Phryne leaned in and whispered translations into Jack's ear whenever his war-time French deserted him, but that couldn't be the only reason for him seeing Carmen in her. She might not be as fierce and unrelenting, but just as independent, free-willed and self-sacrificing.

Don José sang a sweet and beautiful duet with the virtuous girl Micaëla and then Carmen was back, stirring up trouble by attacking another factory girl. She sang her defence mockingly, not giving in to José's commanding officer; her strong voice demonstrating the free-spirited nature of her being wonderfully. Carmen's music simply refused to be contained.

After tantalizing José by singing him the _Habañera,_ so he would let her out of imprisonment, the curtain went down. Was this opera, thought Jack? The music was so passionate and the story so intriguing that _Carmen_ made a lasting impression on him.

"What do think?" asked Phryne, though his expression was self-explanatory.

"...it's...magnificent", Jack said, his eyes glowing. She was very pleased that he too was enjoying himself.

"I'm so glad you like it", she said, with emphasis.

Act II was, if possible, even better. Carmen was on stage throughout and delivered an outstanding performance singing one fiery piece after another. Jack almost hoped the opera wouldn't be as good as it was so he would have a pretext to turn and look at Phryne, but he found himself unable to break away from the action. He was so absorbed by the drama, the unexpectedly twisted tunes and Carmen that he couldn't overlook the underlying brutality of the story. Phryne, on the other hand, who knew the libretto and music by heart, could fully enjoy the boldness and joie de vivre of the piece, as well as his presence, which all filled her with joy and harmony. It also gave her the pleasure of leaning back watching him, without him noticing. He didn't seem to disapprove of the social criticism or Carmen's allegedly questionable moral, quite the contrary, which made him grow on her even more.

She tried hard not to join in in the singing, especially Carmen's arias and duets, but sometimes she mimed the words, tasted the French syllables and relished each strain in the melodies. It was like water to her.

In the break Jack could finally turn his attention to Phryne. He was once more reminded of her beauty, which was hard to discard, but it wasn't just that. The way she smiled, the way she displayed her compassion towards others, her sincere love of life and her strong ethics made him only respect her more, and made her even more beautiful.

Phryne commanded the flamenco dancers, the scenery and the costumes, and the orchestra on their interpretation. She said everything added strongly to the Spanish atmosphere it was suppose to portray. She extolled Clytie Mundy on her acting and Bizet for writing it in the first place. Jack loved hearing her talk about the opera so passionately; he virtually just loved hearing her voice, so melodious and full of feeling. She kept asking him what he thought of this and that, his opinions on the choir and the singers, and he answered truthfully to the best of his ability.

He didn't want to turn from her when they returned to their seats, but everyone directed their eyes towards the orchestra and the stage. The third act was surprisingly dark and despondent; the rift between Carmen and Don José was only growing. But after Carmen had sung a sinister aria in the beginning of the act, Jack found he could turn and glance at Phryne occasionally. She looked a bit drowsy but very happy, as far as he could tell.

Phryne didn't dread act IV like she normally did, her spirits were too high in Jack's company. She tapped her toes to the quick dance-like rhythm of the prelude to the final act and hummed the gypsy tune. Jack looked at her amused. She was getting very sleepy and deliberated on whether to rest her head on his shoulder or not, but decided not to. She didn't want to ruin anything between them. She thought things might change now that he was divorced but she had been wrong, he hadn't given her any inclination to believe things could be different between them.

The curtains went up for the last time this evening. The crowd outside the bull fighting arena were waiting for the show to begin. First came the banderillas, then the picadors, and last the toreador, Escamillo. And there was Carmen, all dressed in white, instead of her blazing red dress. Her friends came to warn her of José, hiding in the crowd, but she of course did not fear him and told them she was expecting him. José begged her to take him back, but she told him she did not love him anymore. Then came the famous quote Phryne had uttered in the morgue:

Carmen will never yield!  
Free she was born and free she will die!

Not until this moment did Jack really believe Carmen would be killed. But just as the Toreador theme is heard from the arena and the crowd are cheering on Escamillo, José rapes Carmen and stabs her in the chest. The final note reverberates in the theatre like the bells of destruction...

A storm of applause roared from the audience and the singers filled the stage once more, bowing to the crowd throwing heaps of roses at them.

Jack could see Phryne getting up from her seat in the corner of his eye, clapping enthusiastically. He was still sitting down, slightly shocked that the opera had ended so tragically, though it was quite foresee-able in hindsight. It made him dreadfully uneasy. He could not understand why José abused Carmen, raped her and killed her...out of mere jealousy – when he professed to love her.

It had been a while since art had affected him this deeply...

Phryne tried to catch his eye when the noise had subsided and people got up from their seats.

"You didn't know she died?" she said.

"No..." he cleared his throat. "You should have told me..."

Phryne tried to cheer him up. "She died for freedom, for independence. To preserve herself. She died for something important."

"But that's tragic. _He was right. It wasn't her most encouraging speech._

"Maybe I should have told you" she said, looking at Jack still trying to get over the ending.

"It shouldn't surprise me", he said, "operas are full of murders and deaths. But why did he... José ... force herself on her as well?", said Jack, disconcerted.

He could see why the girl at the morgue had upset Phryne. It wasn't just Janey's doing. "Just because he didn't belong to her..." he began.

"...how do you mean...?"

"…do you think she cared for him in a real sense?" he asked. Or was it just…

"Lust" she filled in.

Phryne thought of it, taking his arm.

"She loved him" she said, looking straight at Jack. There was a brief pause. "But she loved him on her own terms. And all the men that desired her only loved her on their terms. She knew that, that no one would ever love her unconditionally; they would always fight over who would own her and her body. So she decided to end it. Death was the only solution."

"Do you intend to say she killed herself?", he said, not wanting to believe her.

"Some say she pulled the knife into herself. _Yet another thing to contemplate, he thought_. "Does it surprise you?" Phryne asked, quietly.

"… no…sadly", he said, steering her through the crowd. "Was that what you meant when you said that about _a duel to the death_? Carmen's death."

"Yes."

She tried to read his mind. "What makes you think she didn't love him?" she said, attentively awaiting his answer.

"Just something she said, when they met at Lillas Pastia's after José got out of prison." _Je paie mes dettes…_ " He mulled it over, his eyes serious.

"Yes…?

"Like she…let him have her, because he went to prison in her stead.

"That doesn't sound very much like her", Phryne replied.

"No…but, why would she say that? I hope you're right, but it just made me think…

"Perhaps it was just lust after all, she said, meeting his surprised gaze.

 _It can never be just lust with Phryne, he thought, he would always feel something more._

"Or love _and_ lust", she proposed.

They walked through the lounge to the exit.

"What a shame this is Clytie Mundy's last role. She really embodies the character of Carmen…I'm so glad we got to see it, Jack", thanking him with her irresistibly sunny smile. He couldn't help but return it.

Jack headed towards the motorcar. The summer breeze was warm and soft as silk. Phryne she felt so drowsy she was sure she might fall asleep as soon as they'd get in the motorcar.

"It's such fine a night. Let us walk", she suggested.

Being outside, in the night air, made her head clearer and less fuzzy. They walked down the boulevard at a leisurely pace. Phryne listened to their slow footsteps on the street… No motorcars, no people, just the wind whirling through the leaves, sweeping through the trees… and a serene silence between them. Phryne, not quite conscious about it, drifted unnoticeably closer to him, and held his arm softly tightly. She glanced up at him and he looked back at her for as long as was polite.

The wind brought with it floral scents, swirling around, then paused, letting the walking pair catch up. A church bell chimed, far away, and then Silence resumed its quiet gait.

They felt like one, not just entwined through their arms, but by being in the same frame of mind, emanating the same feelings of felicity and quietude, not wishing to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

He escorted her all the way to her house and reached it far too soon, despite taking their time to get there. The crickets played in Phryne's garden, out of sight. It felt strange, wrong almost, letting go of her arm, and she of his….being linked this way had seemed like the most natural thing, and now it was disbanded.

"Nightcap?"she asked at the doorstep, her eyelids dropping.

"Best not" he said, with such warmth it sounded like assenting.

She looked at him. He looked back, with his unhurried, patient eyes.

"Thank you for a marvelous night, Jack" she smiled tiredly. He smiled back at her.

"Good night, Miss Fisher". He went down her porch and disappeared in the night.

She could feel her heart beat slowly and her eyes falling. Perhaps this is how it must be, she thought.…an innocent visit to the theatre, holding his arm like any lady being escorted by a gentleman, occasionally come close but always withholding… — never to touch, never to join. All while they went on living their lives in parallel lines…..There would still be that, co-existing alongside each other, being in each other's presence at least. Exchanging polite remarks, exchanging confidences like good friends. But never become one, in unity…a unity of passion and purity.

Maybe it could remain like this, a platonic haven…where nothing would be broken and nothing would be ruined. Nothing ever started and nothing ever ended.

Phryne stumbled into bed and dropped off at once.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Phryne slept like a baby but woke up unable to get out of bed. Her muscles had stiffened considerably during the night, and sitting up was more than her abs could take, so she rolled out of bed. It couldn't spoil the memory of last night with Jack, however, which alleviated her pains. She'd felt so close to him at the theatre, almost linked to his mind as they strolled homewards, despite refraining to cross the platonic line between them. It had seemed like a window of oblivion to the rest of the world, being wrapped up in his presence like that, walking by his side the short distance to her house. So painful and rueful a solace had filled her then...

She indulged in a large breakfast in the kitchen. Every time she sat down or got up, her bruised belly kept screaming – the hydrocodone from yesterday obviously didn't have any effect any more. She considered not to give in but the cravings were too strong. She swore this would be the last medicinal ration as she gulped down a liberal drink with the last of the hydrocodone.

The morning was as hot as the day before, if not stuffier, so she chose her coolest silk dress in mint. Outside the sun and air was sultry, but somehow she felt cold as she walked towards the Hispano-Suiza. She draped the shawl tighter round her. The station was cool as a rule. Jack had surely been in the office for hours already.

Jack was rubbing his temples, striving to sift through the paper work at his desk. The delightful sensation of last night with Phryne had vanished, replaced by nightmares of her. He had been having erratic dreams of hearing her being thrashed, while he tried one locked door after another before finding the dark room where she was being held, only to stumble upon her unconscious blooded body being battered to insanity, to disfiguration. She had been wearing Carmen's white dress and she had just lain there, with her arms stretched out... like a white dove being killed aflight...with its wings spread wide. He closed his strained eyes tensely. It wasn't right for something so pure and independent to be murdered. He tried to smother the raw image of her in his mind, but it felt indelible and only made it appear even clearer.

He had been trying to reach Dr. MacMillan all morning, both at the hospital and on the telephone, to ask her about the man abusing Phryne, but had been told she was in theatre or strictly too busy to talk to anyone.

Jack looked up; realizing Collins was standing in front of his desk, waiting.

"Just wondered, sir, did you arrest Quale for killing the second girl after I left for Werribee?"

"I'm just about to. The paperwork is ready."

"Right sir." Collins went back to the counter and continued searching through the piles of files and documents.

Jack had been so distraught by Phryne's maltreatment that he'd completely forgotten to question Quale about the second murder and see to that he wrote a statement about Derrington shooting the other girl, before they left the station yesterday. But when he was in the interview room, all he could think of was the young girl Quale had presumably beaten and killed, which reminded him of Phryne being completely battered...

Collins was getting increasingly nervous in his search.

"What are you looking for, Collins?"

"Quale's statement about Derrington murdering the first girl. The problem is I have no memory of seeing it at all...

"That's because it doesn't exist", Jack confessed. "We never took his statement yesterday." Collins was dumbfounded.

"We'll take it now, it's not a problem."

"Sir, he'll never give a statement now, he can't speak! He appears to have cut out his own tongue..."

"What?!"

"The guards found him on the floor bleeding violently this morning."

"But he's alive?"

"Yes, but the doctors say he'll never speak again. They've put him back in his cell.

 _Damned! They would never get to Derrington now; a chance like this wouldn't present itself again._

"He seemingly called a lawyer just before it happened, but it must have been Derrington", Collins declared. "They're allowed to use the telephone on the wards, aren't they, sir?"

"Yes...", he murmured.

If Derrington had such a power over Quale that he could threaten him into cutting out his own tongue from his sickbed, he was more ruthless than they'd thought.

"We can't arrest Derrington for the murder now, can we?", Collins asked glumly.

"No, and not for anything else either", Jack replied. _They were back at square one again._

"Did Miss Williams know anything about Miss Fisher's whereabouts the night before last?"

"No sir. I asked her, but she got anxious, thought something had happened to Miss Fisher..." "So I dropped it", he added.

"Right..." Jack sighed, disheartened, as Phryne dashed into the station.

"Dropped what?" she inquired with insatiable curiosity. Jack was so relieved to see her, looking so sound and well compared to in his dream, that his mood improved by leaps and bounds.

"Uh...nothing, miss", Hugh replied with a gawky poker-face. Phryne turned her irresistibly prying eyes towards Jack.

" _Coupe-moi, brûle-moi, je ne te dirai rien_ ", Jack replied with a twinkle in his eye. Phryne tried not to laugh to spare her abs from screeching.

Jack filled her in on the drawbacks in the case. She was surprised too that they hadn't remembered to take Quale's statement the day before, but she'd been so intent on keeping Jack from finding out the truth about Derrington. However, it was thoughtless of her to forget.

"Can we at least pin Quale on the second murder?", Phryne asked.

"Yes. We searched his gymnasium and found a blooded knife with the same blood type as the girl". Jack turned to Collins. "You can take care of his arrest. Send this to the Magistrate's Court", he said, handing him Quale's warrant.

"So, what are my orders, Inspector?", she asked in a low, sensual voice. "Do you want me on guard duty, do you need me to type your notes or will you send me away on a barge waiting in the harbour? Where do you want me?" _On your desk?, she added tacitly._ Her eyes were glowing like golden ember, and she'd gotten very close to him, too close. He could see her eyelashes batting.

 _I want you out of harm's way, he thought._ He straightened his tie.

"You can skim the archive files on the men aboard the steamer; make sure we haven't missed anything." Phryne couldn't resist the temptation of flirting with him slightly, just to see his reaction. He drew back to the wall to reduce the small space between then, finishing his sentence. "We don't want our man undercover to be found out because someone in the crew recognises him."

"Yes sir, right you are, sir" Phryne replied, imitating Collins eager manner and boyish voice.

"Don't mock him", Jack said with an involuntary smile.

"But he isn't here", she said, puckering her lips.

"Do you know where the archive room is?" he asked, deciding not to look at her lips.

"You insult my snooping skills, Inspector" she said, darting down to the basement immediately.

Phryne didn't find anything of interest even though she read the files meticulously. She was getting bored. She left the cellar and slunk into his office where he was sitting in his chair, engrossed in a massive book on the desk which must be the criminal code. He didn't know how well he looked with his broad shoulders contrasting his slim waist, his long thin face with its dazzling eyes and razor-sharp cheekbones. Gosh, he was quite foxy. She had to admit she definitely had the hots for him. He couldn't have been with someone for quite some time, she thought…

Phryne tottered as she tried to sit down at his desk corner and missed it by an inch. Jack caught her arm trying to steady her, in a disappointingly undallying way. She could feel his strong fingers on her bare skin. His well-cut three-piece-suit must be covering some tense muscles underneath…It rather thrilled her. Before he could ask her if she was alright she got on his lap somehow. He tried to steer her back to the desk but didn't succeed. "Miss Fisher, you're not quite yourself, let me get you a chair". She could see his mouth moving but she couldn't hear the words. His lips looked smooth as marble… She wondered if he was good in bed, having had only one longer relationship with a woman… There was only one way to find out. Undressing him with her eyes, she put her face carelessly close to his and leaned in to pash him…

What was she doing?!, suddenly realizing she was about to kiss him. Utterly perplexed with her conduct she slid off his lap, trying to understand how she could have taken such an unabashed action without thinking twice. Her mind was racing, angrily reproaching herself for being so impulsive, failing to unfuddle her entangled thoughts… only yesterday had she told herself not to ruin what they might have by making any advances.

Jack looked remarkably composed, as if he wasn't taken back by her forwardness. But he was scrutinizing her slightly, making her even more unsettled. She back-tracked to the far end of the office. At least she could now hear his voice again, which was a welcoming sign to her madness.

"Miss Fisher?..."

"Telephone for you sir", Collins announced from the counter. Jack reluctantly got up and glared at him across the room, annoyed. Phryne couldn't think of a better excuse to end the awkwardness, and shoved him out of the office and closed the door.

Jack was still averse to taking the call.

"It's Dr. MacMillan, sir. She is being very persistent." He quickly took the receiver from Collins.

"Inspector Robinson speaking."

"Is she there with you?". Dr. Mac sounded exasperated.

"Yes, she is", he answered, wondering if she knew Phryne's attacker.

"Keep her there!", she instructed. He could hear nurses shouting her name at the other end; a patient seemed to be in need of help. Mac spoke in an even more hurried voice: "Just...don't let her wander off doing something stupid, and make sure she doesn't get her hands on your whiskey!"

She rang off before he could ask her about the man. MacMillan had sounded very worried...like she thought Phryne wasn't alright. Something was clearly on the anvil. Could that explain why she'd taken a liberty with him just now in the office? Because that was a bit excessive, even for her. Or perhaps MacMillan had figured out who'd beaten her.

He went back to his office where he'd left her. She was foraging about in the cupboard where he kept his scotch.

"Drinking again?" he asked. She shot him an innocent look.

"Headache" she said. _A little too innocently._ "I know you wouldn't mind" she said slyly.

"But I do", he objected, closing the cupboard. Phryne, flabbergasted, desperately tried to think were else she could get hold of medicinal liquor. Hugh was very unlikely to be keeping a stowed away bottle of anything.

"You never had a problem with my drinking before" she argued.

"But you've already had a glass this morning". She raised her eyebrows. "– judging by your breath", he concluded.

She seemed alarmingly wayward, as if she hardly cared what she was saying or doing, just like before MacMillan called...She didn't really seem present. It unnerved him and only added to his worry.

"What's wrong..?" he implored. She ignored him thoroughly.

It grieved him, not being able to reach out to her. He tried to capture her wandering eyes but she seemed intent on avoiding him.

"You don't have to pretend with me..." he said in a hushed voice. She finally met his gaze, suddenly calm...before that edge crept into her voice again.

"There will be another shipload of girls leaving on Friday", she said, before biting her tongue. She cursed her mouth and mind. What was happening to her? She could not control her behaviour!

He didn't want to change the subject but she clearly wasn't going to discuss her mental state with him.

"Don't ask me how I know, just prepare for Friday" she said, as Collins stepped into the room.

"Friday you say, miss. Our man, the boat's stoker, should be well undercover by then; he should be able to signal to us on the riverbank."

"Yes", Jack answered, "make sure he doesn't blow his cover and see if you can get some men from City central as back-up. I still want Derrington under close guard."

"Right, sir."

"Has anyone spoken to him at the hospital?" Phryne wondered cautiously.

"No. Should we have?" Jack asked.

Her face was blank. "No...why would anyone want to...he's not the most eloquent of conversation partners", she remarked.

Jack remembered how Derrington had devoured her with his vulgar eyes when they interviewed him last week...the mere thought of it unsettled him. He was glad she hadn't been alone with him in the room, and that he now was practically an invalid.

Her voice turned deep and sincere all of a sudden.

"You'd tell me if I was going mad, wouldn't you?", her grave face searching his for answers.

"You're not"; he assured her with his kind, honest eyes. "And yes, I would tell you."

 _She didn't deserve this...him...the very opposite of the man beating her._

"Where's the bastard's file?" she asked, looking at his desk.

"To your left", he said, standing beside her. She still didn't see Derrington's file.

Jack reached for it and accidently brushed his elbow against her midriff. Phryne inhaled sharply as not to shriek, recoiling from his touch before she could stop herself.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he began and she turned away from him. He couldn't help feeling surprised at her flinching at that slight touch. Phryne hid her grimacing face behind her hat and hand.

"It was clumsy of me", he apologized. She eventually managed to stutter out a response. "No...I was just...startled."

Jack's telephone rang and Phryne jumped at the sound of it. He took the receiver, his eyes still on her. She flitted around the room, messing with his things, picking up documents but barely reading them before putting them down. He opened his diary to answer the caller's question. The person at the other end rang off and Jack looked around noticing the room was empty. He heard that Collins was back behind the counter in the lobby and he went out to him.

"Do you think there still will be a shipload of new girls on Friday, despite Derrington being in hospital?" Collins asked.

"He'll find a loophole somehow. And we still have to be on alert no matter what", Jack stated.

Mac slammed the front door open, sweeping past Collins, her eyes unfocused, anxiously looking around her.

"Where is she, I need to see her!"

Jack called on Phryne, who'd mysteriously disappeared.

"Miss Fisher?"

"Coming, Jack".

"Dr. MacMillan is here to see you." Phryne paused in the hallway, apparently not glad to see her friend.

"Something wrong Mac?" she asked.

Jack offered them his office but Mac dragged her to the lavatory and made her throw up everything into the toilet; the whiskey, the hydrocodone and her full breakfast.

"Don't test me Phryne; for once, just tell me the truth."

Phryne tried to draw herself up, but Mac put her down on the toilet, mopping her mouth.

"Have you witnessed yet?"

"No".

"Well you bloody well should, because I meant what I said about telling the Inspector."

 _Did she come all the way to say this?_

"Have you taken any more hydrocodone, she asked. Phryne sighed.

"Phryne?!"  
"Yes Mac, I have, but I was in acute pain."

"That's because your body is telling you to rest", she said, irritated.

"I have no time to rest, girls are being sold and shipped to America and we have to stop them!"

"And you've definitely been drinking", she continued, looking at the stomach contents.

"Mac, you don't need to check up on me."

"Stop it Phryne!" her voice loud, you need to tell me exactly how much hydrocodone you took! I wouldn't have given you any Laudanum if I knew you were already on hydrocodone."

"Didn't I mention it?" Phryne said, honest.

"I think you did, but seeing you like that made me all torn up, and I completely forgot", she reproached herself.

"Don't blame yourself Mac, not even doctors are perfect. And I really do feel fine, even though I know you won't believe me", Phryne tried to appease her.

"Of course you feel fine, you're high on analgesics!, Mac snapped. "You have _no_ idea how dangerous it is to mix the two of them, and liquor on top of it! Phryne felt it was best not to argue with her, when her piercing sky-blue eyes were all ablaze.

Jack couldn't help overhearing Mac's loud voice echoing between the tiled walls, and the sound of someone retching her guts out…

…like morning sickness… _Was she ill? Or could she have had a miscarriage? It wasn't a remote possibility. Maybe he had hurt her when he'd happen to brush against her belly. It made sense: her fainting yesterday, her adversity to go to the hospital, Mac's orders not to let her drink and her apparent but uncharacteristic indecisiveness. And all this falling over and staggering was not like her, but he knew women could change when they were expecting. So she_ _had_ _spent the night with her abuser…then it must be him who had…made her with child…_ He could barely contemplate it.

He couldn't make out the rest of their words; they must have lowered their voices.

"Look at you, your have cold sweat, clammy skin and vomited way too easily. Have you been having any other symptoms?" Mac asked, checking her pupils. Phryne tried to think, but her mind was slack and tardy. "Slow heartbeat, confusing thoughts, bad judgement? – more than usual?", she added, accusingly.

Phryne thought about that surreal, unpredictable moment on Jack's lap when she couldn't restrain herself. It felt confounding even now.

"Possibly" she muttered.

"You've evidently taken far too much hydrocodone. I've seriously considered putting you under sedation", she said, her anger subsiding, leaving her worn out face sad and feeble.

"Dearest Mac..." Phryne began, ashamed of having hurt her friend by causing all this trouble and fuss.

"Take this", she ordered, handing her a white pill.

"Aspirin...are you serious?".

"It should help your detoxification together with this" Mac replied, sticking a needle into her arm. _Brilliant, Phryne snorted. Her aching body would only get worse from now on._

"The hospital is in an uproar, I have to get back" Mac said, reluctant to leave her.

"Of course it is without _you_ , you're the one pushing everybody around", she teased.

"Unless you witness this afternoon I _will_ sedate you", she said, not joking.

"Why did you become a doctor Mac" Phryne grumbled, as she took her doctor's bag and went out of the lavatory.

Jack was standing in the hallway. Mac addressed him.

"If she gets worse, starts belching again or acts strangely it's just the withdrawal symptoms, but call me anyhow. No need to look after her any longer, but do lock her up if she gets on your nerves." Jack wasn't sure what to think or say, and Mac was out of the station before he'd opened his mouth.

Phryne was still standing in the middle of the lavatory, her sunglasses in her hand.

"What has she done to you?", Jack asked quietly, looking at her pale face. She was shivering with cold and looked so wearied. He got his coat from the hanger and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Mac said only to wait it out. And I have myself to blame", she replied tiredly.

"The man who beat you is to blame" he protested agitatedly. _How dare she blame herself for what had happened to her?_

"I need to talk to Hugh", Phryne said to divert his mind from questioning her about her attacker.

"Are you sure you should be here?". He knew she wouldn't like the question.

"Don't you want me here?" she asked, looking straight at him. _Don't you want me, she thought. Why can't you take me? I am giving myself to you. I'm yours._

He couldn't read her gaze, couldn't make out what it meant.

"The Commissioner called me, wanting me to personally oversee a matter downtown."

"By all means go. You can't disobey the Commissioner", she urged him.  
"I would bring you along if I could", he said in earnest.

"To keep an eye on me? Mac's already given me the clear."

"Like you told me she did yesterday?", he remarked.

"Mac can be very insistent" she shrugged.

"Please don't…hurt yourself while I'm gone." His voice was even deeper and darker.

"You'll need your coat if you're going out" she reminded him, taking it off.

"Keep it", he insisted, in vain, as she handed it to him.

He reluctantly left her with Collins.

Phryne went out to the lobby.

"Hugh, we should get busy." she said. Collins couldn't help but staring at her violet eye.

"Miss, what happened to you?"

"I want to make a report of abuse."

"…uh…of course." He pulled out a form from a drawer.

"Aren't you going to take photographs of me first".

"Right, yes…you're right. He took out the camera from its leather case, assembled it and opened the door into the interview room.

"But no, I just have to fill in this form…" he said, fumbling with the papers. He took out a fountain pen from his breast pocket.

"When did the attack take place?" he asked with an official voice.

"The night before last."

"At what time? In the evening or during the night?"

"I really don't know Hugh, late evening early night…" she said wearily.

"And he hit you in the eye, and in your face?"

"Yes." Her cracked lips were visible now that her lipstick had been washed off. He made a note of her injuries.

"And where was this?"

"Does it matter?" she asked in a biting tone.

"Uh yes…it could have an effect on the verdict".

"In my house." Hugh's blue eyes widened. Phryne thought he meant she should be more specific.

"Upstairs" she specified, starting to get irritated.

"In the bedroom?" he asked blushingly before he could stop himself.

"Why don't you just write _in bed_?" she snapped, though slightly amused over his bold question.

"No, I…we don't have to write anything."

"Good!"

Still blushing he turned to the next page of his notes.

"Can you name your attacker?"

"No, I don't know his name" she lied blankly. "Why don't I add a physical description in the file when we're done?" she suggested.

"If that's what you want, miss."

"What would his sentence be, say, if I managed to get his name?" Phryne asked.

"I'm afraid only a few years in prison, at the most."

"What about if the bodily harm was worse?

"Miss…?"

"I suspect you don't know much about eye shadow, Hugh, but it has the wonderful capability of looking like bruises, if you apply it correctly." She revealed her upper arms which were black and blue.

"Very clever, miss" said Collins, very impressed, and began snapping pictures of her.

"Or does it have to be broken bones?", she asked.

"Well, broken bones usually entail a severe punishment", he admitted. "But I don't see how even you can fake fractures, Miss Fisher."

"No…" She mulled it over."Don't get too excited Hugh, but I've painted bruises on my stomach too", she said, baring her belly.

"Oh…Christ…" he exclaimed, unable to look away. "They look so real."

"Focus on the camera", she scolded. He adjusted the camera and took pictures of her wrists too, after she'd removed the bracelets. Then he suddenly froze.

"That's not…eye-shadow, is it miss?", he said, his eyes wide with fright. "Those bruises are real…"

"No, Hugh" she snorted.

"Yes they are…you just don't want us to know."

She had overestimated his gullibility.

"Well if you're gonna be like that you might as well document this", she said, annoyed, showing him her wonky rib.

"He will certainly do time for this" Hugh mumbled, still shocked.

"Excellent!" she said, covering herself with her shawl. "Now, I want this to stay between the two of us, she continued, looking sternly at Hugh.

"I'll have to show the Inspect…"

"You don't need to show or tell him anything"

"But he will want to take action…" _Yes exactly, that is why we have to keep it from him._

"If you as much as implies to the Inspector that I've made a report, I'll tell Dot you've been unfaithful". Hugh looked, if possible, even more shocked. Phryne had no intention of carrying out her threat but she knew it would make him keep his gob shut.

"If you would send a copy of this to Dr. MacMillan I would be most grateful", she said, putting on her bracelets. Hugh nodded absent-mindedly. Victorious, she signed the form and headed to a mirror to reapply the lipstick and powder Mac had wiped off her face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Phryne cross-checked different elevations map in Jack's office with lists of lookouts in the river lands and lighthouses in the estuary, while Collins typed out her report. Phryne was getting very hungry but Jack wasn't back yet. Since her large breakfast had been washed up she decided she could not wait any longer; she got the hamper from the motorcar. Her Collingwood upbringing had led to her incapability of saving food in her close vicinity. Mr. Butler had made an abundance of asparagus sandwiches, and there was a sliced meat loaf, dates and raspberry tartlets too. She brought the maps with her and went to the backyard, a small green spot surrounded by the low station buildings. Delicious! She crammed herself with food and swallowed way too quickly – she really was quite famished.

The sound of a motorcar parking outside the station reached her ear, and a few moments later she could hear Jack's voice float out through the office window.

"How is she?"

"Miss Fisher?", Hugh said. "As well as is to be expected".

"She hasn't fainted or occupied the lavatory...or acted oddly?"

"No, she's been with me the whole time. She's been her usual bossy self", he muttered.

"Good", Jack said, not catching his tone of complaint.

"What did the Commissioner want?"

"Just the usual. Where is she now?"

"She just stepped out back."

Jack took off his coat and hat and went outside.

"Jack, there's still food left", Phryne said, getting up.

"I'll just have to send a telegram", he replied. She nodded and spread the cloth on the grass and went inside after him to fill the carafe with water.

Hugh didn't appreciate her presence when she joined them at the telegraph; he avoided her face studiously and kept glancing at Jack.

"Sir...", Hugh said, turning his back on Phryne, "don't we have maps over the lower reaches of the Yarra?" .

"Yes, in my secretaire" Jack replied, finishing the telegram.

"They're all gone and..."

"That could have been me", Phryne intercepted. They looked at her. "I stole them", she said winking at Hugh, who instantly looked away." I mean _borrowed_ ", she corrected and glanced at Jack.

"I thought I might pick out lookout points to signal from, sir" Hugh said, ignoring Phryne.

"Already executed!" Phryne beamed. "Maybe you should appoint me constable instead", she said to Jack who seemed amused. Hugh looked at her, turned red, and escaped behind the typewriter. Jack looked at Phryne inquiringly and inclined his head towards Collins. She only smiled and placed herself in front of Hugh.

"Let me help you with that, Hugh", she said, pretending the typewriter was jammed.

He began typing rapidly and tried to be indifferent but his eyes kept fluttering to Jack's.

"Since Collins _is_ an assigned constable on this case," Jack said firmly, "we should leave him to work".

Phryne mischievously took the carafe and walked out of the back door Jack was holding up for her.

They sat down on the cloth in the grass and Phryne handed him a plate.

"Our picnic yesterday wasn't really a picnic", she stated. "Now this _is_ ", she exclaimed, holding out a sealed bottle of Merlot. Jack opened his mouth to object.

"Don't worry, I've brought us water" she sighed, letting go off the wine wistfully. Jack took three sandwiches and some dates.

"What have you done to my constable, Miss Fisher?", he asked, his face bright.

"Why, nothing", she replied sanctimoniously. He gave her a sceptical look whilst stifling the urge to smile.

"I would _never_ undermine _you_ , Inspector, by manipulating your constable" she assured him in a dead-serious voice.

"Is that so?" he replied with feigned surprise.

"Though I must say, he is _very_ impressionable, especially to female influence", she said smirking.

"Well, he's not alone" Jack replied casually.

Phryne couldn't tell if he was really flirting with her or just playing along, so she took another tartlet and showed him the maps.

"I've marked out potential places on the river bank where the men can hide when shadowing the barge's rout downstream on Friday. And if our stoker need to signal to us, we could use one of these lookouts here", she pointed on the map in Jack's hand.

"Good, then we can go down the river later and look them up".

Phryne lay down on her back in the grass after finishing her fifth tartlet. Her befuddled mind was getting better and her mangled body only worse. The merciless heat was at its height but Phryne made sure the shawl covered her upper arms. She turned her head to the side and looked up at Jack's face.

"I'm glad I wasn't born a man..." she said, taking in his well-cut features. The sun beams accentuated his fair eyelashes, which were quiet long and moved whenever he blinked.

"How so?"

"I just can't understand how you can bear wearing a suit, even in summer."

He just smiled and poured himself a glass of water. She seemed much better now, less confused and more of her own mind.

"Why isn't a working man allowed to take off his jacket in the office, I mean, it's _ridiculous_ " she continued.

"It's not so bad" Jack said.

"The station is quite chilly", she agreed. "But out here...you know, I wouldn't condemn you for taking it off, it's like an _oven_ outside." He looked at her.

"It's just us here" she said, whisking a fly from his sandwich.

"That's settled then" he chuckled, removing his jacket.

"Doesn't if feel refreshing?" she smiled. It was unusual to see him in anything else than his suit, but he looked agreeable in his waistcoat too, of course. She stretched her arms and closed her eyes, stroking the grass with her palms. It felt so summary and relaxing lying down, resting her limbs, feeling the heat, hearing him chew.

"How much do I have to increase Mr. Butler's salary to make him stop working for you?", Jack asked.

"You can't steel my butler", she giggled, painfully.

"You clearly underestimate my predilection for cooked food" he replied, taking the last sandwich.

The buzzing flies left them when there were no more scraps to feed on. Barely any sound got through to the backyard, except for the occasional motorcar passing by on the street. Everything else was muffled, and the summer breeze was very shy. Phryne opened her eyes, looked at him, then shut them again. _It felt good to know Jack wouldn't find out now that Mac had got the report and Hugh was too terrified to utter a single word._

"Do you want the last tartlet?" he asked with his warm, humming voice.

"No, you take it" she smiled tiredly, feeling the sunlight through her eyelids.

Jack put back the plates and the glasses in the hamper and opened the maps again. He should get back to work but he had to admit he liked Phryne's attempts to distract him from work in the office. He glanced at her. She was still keeping her eyes shut. He looked at the map she had marked with a red pen...most of the dots were on the west bank, in Newport.

"We can start near the quarries in Newport", he said, following her trail of red dots with his her finger, "and then go down to the estuary". She didn't answer. He could hear her shallow breathing. He looked up ...she was breathing steadily; he could see her chest rise and fall...

Her eyes were tightly shut...she was asleep. He smiled and folded the maps and put them away. He'd never had a chance to look at her unguardedly before, without her knowing. When she'd fainted in the gardens he'd been too worried to take her in, but now she was fast asleep and there was no one else around. Her pale cheeks were slightly red, perhaps of the heat, and strands of her black hair fell into her face. The cuts and scrapes were beginning to heal but the black eye still blared at him, although less swollen, tugging at his conscience, remembering him of the nightmare. He had to ask her again who had abused her, even if he knew she would refuse telling him. She seemed at ease, however, he hoped sleep provided some oblivion for her, though she didn't seem to be affected by it when she was awake... but she must be. It was not _just scratches_ as she'd told him, someone had deliberately beaten her temple, jaw, eyebrow, cheek and eye with malicious intent. He could see now that her lips were cracked too, her deep red lips. He shouldn't look at them. He couldn't forget the stirring sensation of kissing her months ago... how terribly good it had felt, how his belly had churned at the thrill, how soft she'd been...and how she'd almost responded with her tongue, which had nearly made him loose his composure. It was a wonder that it hadn't...he may have imagined it...maybe she hadn't returned the kiss; perhaps he'd just been so overwhelmed by emotions.

And then last month, at the masquerade ball, he thought he'd seen something in her eyes, a longing...he remembered her eyes dropping to his lips; he thought she might have kissed him then. But he'd been just as affected of her closeness then as in the French café, if not more, and in a deeper sense, that he could not be sure of that either. But if she'd made the smallest hint of an advance then, when loosening his tie, he knew he would have been unable to resist her. It had taken him all the self-restraint he could muster to ask her to leave him to undress alone.

He was sure, however, that her odd brash actions in his office today were nothing but playful desire on her part; she was just toying with him. He hoped it had something to do with whatever Mac had diagnosed her with...perhaps he could blame it on her condition.

He didn't want it to turn into a mere dalliance. Of course, it wouldn't grow into anything; he deluded himself by telling himself otherwise. But he had determined long ago not accept a fleeting liaison with her, should she ever suggest it. That was not him, he did not do that. If that was what she wanted with him, she could turn to her endless trail of admirers, who she seemed to discard over a night. The thought of giving himself to her felt almost inevitable at times...but the thought of her accepting him only to release him when she had had her fun was too much...he loved her too deeply for that. Not that it would hurt him that she didn't want _him_ ,but he would get too deep before she discarded him, and not recover from the hurt of losing her, of being told to stop loving her.

If she only cared a little for him perhaps it would be enough, he wouldn't mind, because his feelings for her were eternally constant. But that would not be enough for her; she wouldn't want to be with someone for very long who she didn't care for...and perhaps it wouldn't work at all if it was unrequited.

No, he would go on loving her from afar, in silence. He could stand that. He was merely grateful she was in his life at all. And he would always feel this way; his feelings would never wane...of that he was certain.

He looked back at the office window, wondering if he should get her a pillow, but she was sleeping very soundly, though her breaths were still short. He was relieved that MacMillan had assessed her again, but he wondered why she'd been so angry with her. Probably because she'd been drinking... it must be harmful to both woman and child. Luckily, he could tell she hadn't been drinking the wine in the hamper before he returned. MacMillan had shouted something about hydrocodone too. But he didn't know analgesics were harmful as well...but then, maybe it wasn't a miscarriage, perhaps she had tried to get rid of it. That must be why she'd taken too much pain relief. How very like her to take matters into her own hands and hurt herself in the process. He was only relieved she hadn't injured herself badly; thank god her best friend was a doctor.

He glanced at her. Her whole being was beautiful. She turned her head towards him, still asleep. Her face looked so soft and unshielded, and captivated him more than he thought it would. Everything just seemed so light when he was with her, when she wasn't getting herself into trouble, that is. A fly landed on her collarbone, which he now saw was quite jutting...it must feel rather bony at touch...he was seized by an impulse to touch it but whisked it away. She really was very slim...he hoped she didn't starve herself...she'd felt so light when he'd carried her yesterday. And so warm and soft...and close. He really should get back inside.

Should he move her? Could she lie here alone? No one else could get in here, and several windows faced the yard. He took her sun hat and put it over her eyes to shade her face from the sun. He would let her sleep for as long as possible.

 _Later in the afternoon at the station_

He didn't hear her slip in through the backyard door.

"How long have I been asleep?"She could tell her body thrived on rest and craved more, but she didn't have time for it.

"Only a short while", he lied with a smile. He put away the papers he'd been reading to give her his full attention.

She still hadn't come up with a pretext to visit Derrington at the hospital to make sure he was suffering sufficiently, without Jack putting to and two together. His suggestion yesterday that they maybe should question him again seemed like her only chance, but it was forfeited now.

"You haven't been to Newport yet?" she asked.

"No, I thought we could go down there now, if you feel up to it?"

"Splendid." She put on her hat and he got his coat.

"We've got evidence from Dr. MacMillan's pathology assistant so we can charge Quale with sexual abuse, as well as murder – his sentence will be harsh.

"Good." _At least some justice in the world for that poor child. If only they could charge Derrington with either murder or abuse._

Hugh was ticking off names on a list on the counter.

"We're going down the river", Jack notified him.

Phryne waited for Jack by the door as he took the maps and put them in his pockets. Collins was still giving her the cold shoulder, or at least trying to.

"What are you doing, Hugh?" she asked sweetly.

"Dividing the guard duty on Friday between our men and City Central's", he replied without looking at her.

"I see, it must be _very_ important to get it right. Lucky the Inspector has put _you_ , and no one else on the job," she teased. Hugh uneasiness was replaced by an indifferent face but annoyed manners. Jack gave her an admonishing look. "I'll leave you to it then", she said and opened the door for Jack.

"I'll be right with you", he told Phryne, and she went out on the street.

"Everything alright, Collins?

"Yes sir", he muttered, "just great".

"Miss Fisher can be a handful sometimes."

"Indeed she can", Collins replied surly.

"Don't let that put you off!", Jack said, giving him a pat on the back before heading out after her.

The river lands were as green and flat as they had been for centuries. Jack parked the motorcar on the outskirts of the vast grasslands and they continued on foot to the rank vegetation surrounding Newport lakes. The sun couldn't reach them under the high fig trees and shrubbery, which was somewhat of a comfort to Phryne whose body had started protesting against the mere physical strain of walking. They went across the lake on large stepping stones to get closer to the Yarra. You could hear the parrots cawing from the tree crowns as usual and a python was resting on a sunspot on a boulder. It was quite nice out here.

Phryne looked at the maps in Jack's hand.

"If we take the path through there we should end up on the south side of the quarries, which is very near our first potential hiding place." He nodded. He seemed glad as well to get out of the office and be outdoors again.

The dragonflies dashed around them as they got closer to the river. They walked past the blue-stone outcrops, looking deserted without the quarrymen and cart-horses busy at work – it was Sunday, Phryne reminded herself. Looking out over the river, hearing no noise from the quarries, made it seem even more like this land had been the same for thousands of years.

She took his arm as they got to the river bank. Jack contrasted the elevation maps to the landscape around them. Due to the heavy rains last week they had to discard some hiding places which had eroded, but they found a few other ones on both sides of the river as they walked alongside the meandering water.

The paths down to the estuary were rough and dwindling, or perhaps it was just the heightened pain in Phryne's muscles that made it exhausting. They had to check out all the possible lookouts facing the bay were the steamboat would be anchored before finding a sufficiently secluded point where they could still spot the steamer if it changed anchorage. The lookout was a sprawling ledge, the highest point in the area, covered in bushes. By now Phryne's torso ached queasily...she strongly doubted she would get to the top in one piece. Jack felt her slacken the pace and looked up from the maps.

"We'll just walk up there and then we can return to the station", he said.

"Why don't you climb it and I'll work out the coordinates of it on the map?" She made an effort to sound as casual as possible. Luckily he accepted her suggestion.

As soon as he was out of sight she sat down to catch her breath and obliterate the waves of burning pain. She tried to breathe properly to keep the nausea down, but it wasn't having any of it. How _annoyingly_ inconvenient, she didn't see why the devilry had to magnify right now, they had just been walking! Not until this moment did she realise how effective the hydrocodone had been yesterday.

Jack was back in but a few a minutes. His bright face turned grave.

"You're unwell", he said. _Did she really look that bad?_

Her abs roared as she tried to get up...she failed to stifle the groans bursting out of her throat. Jack bent down to her as she grimaced and winced. She was intent on getting up so he gripped her arms to help her, but she felt his fingers squeeze right on the bruises.

"Don't touch me!" she heard herself scream, staggering away from him, finally on her feet. She put her hands on her stomach; it must be where it hurt, Jack thought.

 _She regretted yelling at him. If only this aching queasiness would cease._

What's wrong?" he asked, talking a step towards her. Thoughts whirled in his head of every mishap that could go wrong; miscarriage, toxaemia, virus diseases and everything else that could occur. Phryne just moaned louder.

"We have to get you back to the car" he said, wondering if he could carry her all that way.

She was still breathing heavily, not looking at him.

"What can I do?", Jack asked, feeling frustratingly powerless.

"Stop fussing" she croaked. He gently put his hand on the small of her back and offered her his arm. _Why wouldn't she let him steady her, she might collapse at any second._

"Did Dr. Mac say it could make you ill?"

"I'm not ill, I'm just in _pain_!" she said testily.

"There may be something wrong", he objected.

 _Why did they have to be miles from a telephone box right now? He should get hold of MacMillan, she must know how to help her._

"It's nothing wrong", she insisted. She put her arm around his waist and leaned at him. "Mac said there's nothing to be done about it." He put his hand around her very gently as not to hurt her. It was wretched, he thought, how much pain women had to bear for the sake of a child...like they didn't know enough hardship.

"So it's supposed to be like this?"

"Yes", she said. _What was it with all his questions, what was he getting at?_ The pain blinded her thoughts, she couldn't focus. She felt him steer her carefully down the slope to another path. He was choosing a completely different direction than the one they had come from. _She was relieved that he didn't suspect her moans were caused by any other injuries than those in her face. Fortunately, the shawl had stayed in place over her shoulders._

She tried to concentrate on his arm around her, and nothing else, the feeling of his fingers through the silk on her waist. She listened to his breathing to calm her own, while trying to keep up with his footsteps. It felt much easier walking leaning heavily on him, but she wasn't sure how they got back to town, Jack must have known a short-cut. He ordered a cab for them back to the station. Sitting down, even for a short ride, made her feel better. She wouldn't let Jack take her to the hospital or anywhere else. "Mac will tell you there's absolutely no point", she asserted. He tried to hearten himself with the fact that she at least she wasn't moaning or wincing any longer.

"I'll at least talk to her", he replied as they went into the station where Collins was sorting through the post. Jack went straight to the telephone so Phryne handed Hugh their maps and lists of the lookouts.

"Inspector Robinson for Dr. MacMillan, please."

Phryne sighed, this would have been so different if she'd been a man; no one would have given a damn or gotten in a flap over it.

Mac hadn't come to the other end yet.

"Are you in pain, miss?", Collins asked. Jack looked at him. _He sounded like he expected her to be... Yes, he didn't seem surprised that she wasn't alright. Could he know something? He still seemed intimidated of her, but also worried._

"I thought you were ignoring me, Hugh", she replied and walked through to the office. She said down in the chair opposite Jack's. If she couldn't walk a short distance without whimpering her stamina would drop drastically in a few weeks, and she used to be in such a good shape...she would make Derrington pay for that too.

Collins glanced at the Inspector who was holding the line, waiting.

"Ah yes, Dr. MacMillan", Jack said.

" -"

"Yes I have", he replied.

MacMillan asked him all sorts of questions.

"No she hasn't...no. No, not at all. Yes exactly. She's been her usual self apart from..."

"-"

She seemed content with his answers.

"So it couldn't have been because of...? Dr. Mac interrupted him again." And you don't know who it could have been?" She claimed she didn't.

"Are you sure there is nothing to be done?", he continued. "I see...but she was in so much pain", he repeated. "Nothing to be worried about you say?...Oh...thank you." Mac rang off. _Not even MacMillan would tell him who Phryne had been with this Friday, not that he'd expected her to._

Jack took Collins aside.

"What has Miss Fisher told you?"

"Nothing…she's told me nothing, sir." _He clearly knew something._

"Tell me, Collins."

"No sir, I mean there's nothing to tell", he reeled off, his eyes flickering. Jack raised his eyebrows and kept staring at him with unsettling authority.

"I have paper work to do", Collins excused himself and tried to leave.

"You know I can make you tell me", Jack said brusquely.

"Not you too", he interrupted. _So Phryne had blackmailed him into withholding something._

"If you're fond of that badge…"

"No sir, I don't do blackmail. I won't tell you. You need to quit playing your games, the both of you", Collins said with sudden resolve and left him.

Jack joined Phryne in the office.

"Did Mac reassure you?"

"Yes", he said half-heartedly. _Why did Phryne always try to reassure him when it was she that was in pain?_ "You were right; there's nothing to do but to wait it out."

"Of course I was."

 _She didn't feel the need to scream as badly here, sitting down, as back at the bay._

"Give me something to distract myself with", she requested.

"Hm…you could go through these missing people's files", he replied, searching on his desk for the right pile.

It felt good to have her within sight, even if it would probably be best if she got some rest in hospital or at home, but he knew she wouldn't stay there for long no matter how ill she turned. She seemed to take it easy now, at least, shrunken-up in the chair.

He started on the tons of forms that needed to be signed, the sergeant applications that would be approved and all the unread reports coming in today. He couldn't keep up his concentration, not that he made much of an effort, and Phryne didn't seem to make much progress either. He studied her, going through a missing person's report. The tension in her face had disappeared at least.

Phryne eventually felt she could keep back the pain to some extent, and manage an indifferent face, making Jack believe it had subsided. _Alas, how little could be seen on the outside and how much could stay hidden inside. Why did people operate like that? It seemed like a great pretense sometimes, she thought. What if you could read each other's thoughts, wouldn't everything be much easier then? Wouldn't things be different… Would there be less encumbering circumstances between them then?_

They worked through the stacks of paper for another hour and Jack took a few calls. Phryne's ribs and stomach didn't protest as much anymore, but she hadn't stirred an inch, on the other hand. The telephone rang again, and Hugh who just returned from the basement, answered. Phryne finished reading and Jack got some stamps from the top shelf to use for the applications as Collins walked in.

"I'm on call, sir, and I have to attend to a disturbance at the docks" , he said. He seemed indecisive.

"Go on, we'll be fine here", Jack replied standing behind his desk. Collins seemed to be deliberating with himself. "If you need a man to go with you, take one of City Central's boys", Jack encouraged him.

"No, I...thank you, I'll be fine", he said absentmindedly. He got to the door then turned around to Jack.

"I think you should see this, sir" handing him a brown file before leaving. Phryne heard the front door close behind him.

Jack flicked the file open. Phryne got up and drew closer, trying to peep over the edge of the papers without success. All colour drained from Jack's face and he kept staring at something in the file.

"What is it?" _Not another murder, surely._

He didn't answer and she was getting apprehensive. She managed to nab a paper from him and found herself looking at a photograph of her bruised ribcage. The file slipped out of his hand...she glanced at him...he seemed miles away. She opened her mouth to say his name, but was disrupted by his pitch-dark eyes and devastated countenance. It felt like an eternity before he finally looked up at her. Seeing her made him even more distressed and Phryne could see his hands trembling, though he did not know it. Something deep in his eyes faded away, making her unsure of whether she would be able to call him back. She wanted to skin Hugh for telling him.

 _The feeble notion that he had had, that she could be kept safe, that he somehow could shield her from danger, was now utterly crashed...and it was an abysmally helpless feeling._

"Jack". Her voice was very quiet. He still didn't say anything, it felt even more alarming that he didn't speak...she wished he would say anything, anything was better than nothing.

He lowered his eyes.

"When I touched you earlier it was there, right at your bruise", he said, pointing to her stomach."That's why you flinched..." He looked at her. "I'm _so_ _sorry_ " he said with such deep affection his voice broke.

"Jack, don't be", she said compassionately, taken by his affection.

 _He did not know what grieved him more, knowing someone had mauled her every limb, or she standing there as if nothing had happened, bearing up her brave face._

"The photographs makes it look much worse than it is", she said, as her ribs pounded franticly again, "Believe me."

"I can't" he said almost inaudibly. She wanted to console him but he looked like nothing in the world could ever give him solace again. She raked together the photos and the report papers to keep him from staring at them and her. He searched her face and knew she wouldn't answer him. "Why?". He couldn't help looking at her body where he knew the bruises were concealed. "Why did he hurt you?" he whispered. She averted her eyes but kept her face in check, making him even more desolate. Once again her aloofness frightened him; making her seem so detached, fierce and vulnerable at the same time. He took the file from her hands as she was about to say something.

"You weren't meant to see..." she explained ruefully.

"But Collins were?" he asked, his voice rasp.

"No, but Mac forced me to make a report."

Phryne reminded herself to have a chat with Hugh after this; he was high up her revenge list.

"And you're surprised he showed me?" _She did look taken aback...she was unbelievable._ "Did you really think he wouldn't tell me?" he said, baffled.

Phryne decided not answer that.

Jack kept looking at her intently.

"Who was it?". _It said abuser unknown in the file._

"Does it matter?" she replied, wishing he would just let it go.

"Yes." _Of course it mattered. Why did she take it so lightly?_

"There's nothing to be done now, it's in the past", she declared.

"How can you say that!?" His torn up face searched hers but didn't find anything.

His agitated voice rattled her. But it _was_ in the past, she couldn't erase the bastard's bruises exactly. And she supposed she had to give up the urge to avenge Derrington so Jack wouldn't suspect him.

 _How could she just stand there, let alone act as if nothing was the matter, like she was perfectly alright when she was not?! Like she wasn't in any pain...how could she even stand upright? Her pain must be severe...she must have been suffering constantly all this time, since yesterday! It hadn't been morning sickness or anything else at all._

"It's not so bad, Laudanum numbs most of it" she said like she'd read his mind, "it really works wonders", she tried to assure him. _So that's how she'd got through the days._

"But Dr. MacMillan said you'd taken too much of it", he remembered. "That's why she came to see you."

"Well, you wouldn't let me have your scotch" she shrugged.

"Couldn't she give you anything else?" _There must be something MacMillan could do for her._

"I'm on detoxication" she admitted. _Because you didn't follow her prescription, he sighed heavily. And because that man had hurt her so bad she had to smother her pain by self-medicating high amounts liquor and analgesics. Dangerously high amounts. And for what? To hide her injuries from him so she could stay on the case. Her non-existent regard for her own safety alarmed him._

"You should have told me", he said.

 _And given you all this grief? No I shouldn't, she thought._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – VI**

"You didn't have to know." There was misery in his eyes. "I wanted to spare you..." she tried to explain. She was relieved his hands had stopped trembling at least. "I'm sorry", she whispered. He looked so terribly lonely. She badly wanted to undo the past for him, to wipe out the night with Derrington, so he wouldn't be hurt like this. She stepped closer to him, catching his eye. She took his hand in hers to comfort him; he was startled by her touch but felt a warm streak of light slowly find its way into his soul, like a winter's day last ray of sun between them.

It felt like she had begun to reduce the gulf between them slightly, by finally being able to reach out for him. She wondered how else she could console him, when he suddenly let go of her hand.

 _She shouldn't be the one to console him; it should be the other way around. But he was so shaken by the extent of her abuse that it was hard to collect his thoughts or take any action..._

 _he shouldn't have let go of her cold bleak hand though._

Phryne was somewhat astonished that he didn't accept her consolation. He had appeared to accept it at first, but now he looked like he did not want it.

He reached for her shawl.

"Let me see..." he asked quietly, "what he's done to you." His question surprised her. _He was too much of a wreck already, she had no intention whatsoever to let him see her sore bruises; it would agitate him much more than any black and white photograph._

"Jack you...", but his dark gaze stopped her. She didn't want him to see but felt unable to turn down yet another of his requests. He looked at her shawl, dreading what he knew he would see, wishing fervently for the injuries not to exist. She didn't stop him and he made the shawl slid off her shoulders...

 _Oh God. Her otherwise pale white upper arms were violet nearly all over. The photographs didn't do them, or her suffering, justice. It was much worse than he had imagined. And he had grabbed her arms tightly when trying to get her to her feet, that was why she'd screamed at him. He couldn't begin to tell her how sorry he was._

Phryne had to look away from his gaze, for he pierced her conscience with his pity, making her feel she should be sorry for herself. She could not have it. She quickly draped the shawl around her, scolding herself for letting him see...it had only shocked and hurt him, and he didn't deserve any of it.

,

"I should go home, it's already late afternoon", she said out of the blue. _She'd tricked herself, the light-headedness was back, accompanied by heightened pangs and a throbbing sensation through her muscles._

"No you shouldn't. You're coming with me." His voice had turned icingly cold. He took her by the arm leading her out of the room, out of the station. She winced as her abs thumped violently by the slight motion.

"May I ask where you're abducting me?", Phryne asked, although it felt dicey to cross him in this state.

"The hospital" he replied, opening the motorcar door.

"I thought we agreed with Mac that it's nothing serious, she said, getting in the passenger seat with great difficulty. _She looked poorly, more so than by the river._

He gave her one look dark look and Phryne decided to shut it.

"That was before you showed any symptoms other than pain." _And before I knew your pain wasn't because of a child._ He could see she was shivering with cold again, and her face was pale as a sheet, and when she'd taken his hand he had felt her racing pulse...all the signs MacMillan had told him to look out for. He was afraid he should have taken her to hospital earlier.

Phryne let him have his way in the fervent hope of finally getting some more Laudanum from Mac.

Jack drove nauseatingly fast to the Women's Hospital.

Mac met them outside the entrance as Jack helped her out of the motorcar.

"Talk of the devil...you spare me the trouble of coming to get you myself."

"But you told Jack it's nothing serious", Phryne winced as she tried to get up on the porch. Mac eyed her with a very troubled look.

"It wasn't earlier today, but if you're still in severe pain now something's wrong." Mac took her other arm as she spoke. "I should have picked you up an hour ago but I had to perform an emergent caesarean."

Phryne clenched her teeth as they climbed the stairs and Mac led them to a quiet ward on the second floor.

"Nurse, can you take this lady through to the single room on the left and make sure she gets changed; I will be with you shortly", Mac said, and headed for the storeroom. Phryne's room was at the end of the corridor, with a window to the park. The young blonde nurse looked at Jack's and Phryne's hands, noticing that they didn't wore any rings, and stopped Jack in the doorway.

"Next of kin only", she told him before closing the door in his face.

The fair-haired girl helped Phryne out of the dress and onto the bed, and kept gaping at her discoloured body. She took her bracelets covering her violet wrists and searched through the white cupboard in the corner.

"You should modernize the hospital gowns", Phryne panted, when the nurse held out a white dress. "They aren't the _least_ attractive."

"I take it the gentleman out there wasn't the one who beat you?" the girl countered. _How impertinent. She'd forgotten how gossipy nurses could be._ Phryne didn't bother answering, and struggled with the gown, when Mac returned.

"Now that you're finally here you won't get out in a hurry", Mac announced and got out a measuring-tape, while the nurse ran her checks.

"Pulse is rapid and her blood pressure is low..." the girl notified her.

Mac glanced at Phryne and felt her wrist, nodding.

"She's got mottled skin and is very restless."

"Get her a saline drip" Mac ordered, scribbling hastily on her clipboard.

"I don't understand, you told Jack I was fine on the telephone, why do you have to keep me here?" Phryne asked weakly.

"And we'll probably need some tubes", Mac added before turning to Phryne.

"You wanted me to allay his worry, right, so I did. But as soon as he called I wanted to come and get you...unfortunately I was held up here. Now, I just hope we have gotten you here in time. You're in a bad way, Phryne." Mac made her lift her stomach to be able to measure it.

"Ow!", Phryne cried and screw up her eyes tightly. "But you always say pain isn't... harmful in itself...it's merely an indication of where and what's wrong", she moaned.

"Exactly, and your pain is so severe it tells me there's something wrong with your stomach."

Mac managed to measure her and didn't seem happy with the result. The nurse came in with some tubes. Mac repeated the figure to her.

"What's wrong? Isn't that's my measurements?" Phryne stuttered, unable to recall.

"Save your breath Phryne and concentrate on breathing properly, or you'll pass out! We need more blankets; she has to be kept warm" she told the nurse. _Phryne didn't say no to that, it was freezing here, just like everywhere else._ Mac began squeezing her stomach in different places, making Phryne shout at the top of her lungs.

"You remember me measuring your belly yesterday and earlier?" It was a rhetorical question. _No...Well yes, now that she mentioned it, she thought Mac been checking to see if she was pregnant._

"You've swollen considerably since then", Mac said gravely. "You've got internal bleeding in your abdomen." She got to a particularly sore point on Phryne's abs.

"Aaaaah!"

"Good", Mac concluded. Phryne couldn't agree.

"You've obviously been scampering about..."

"Walking alongside the Yarra", Phryne cut in breathily.

"...which must have set off the bleeding."

"The symptoms you had because of the overdose of analgesics are also consistent with the symptoms of haemorrhage", Mac continued. " But, it does seem to be in a less sensitive place of the abdomen" she assessed, moving her hands away from her liver, looking at the nurse, "which is what we hoped for." They covered her in another blanket.

Phryne slumped down her head in the pillow, trying to get air down her lungs. The girl stuck a needle in her wrist and turned on a drip while Mac sterilized the tubes. Phryne tried to make sense of what they were up to, her eyes flitting around the room for any clues, but her head was spinning wildly. Mac took her pulse again.

"It's getting irregular, keep her calm, nurse; we need her to stay conscious."

Jack was waiting outside when Mac finally opened the door and shouted down the corridor.

"Dr. Sheridan, I need you!"

A dark-haired man in a white coat came running from another room.

"Is it the blunt trauma patient you spoke about?", he said.

"Yes, although I don't think we have to operate, but could you take a look at her to make your own observation" He nodded.

"She's got Cullen's sign", Mac said, handing him her notes on Phryne,

"Since when?

"Since sometime this afternoon. She didn't have it yesterday or late this morning."

"Right."

"So I need you to perform angiography on her. I'll get you one of the radiologists."

Jack couldn't see Phryne through the door; the doctor was in the way, and the nurse shut the door again, so he followed MacMillan striding towards the wards.

"How is she?". He had heard her terrible screams from inside the room.

"We'll know more in a little while", she replied in a distracted voice. "Nurse Jowett?" Mac called, looking out over the ward. An experienced-looking nurse with glasses came up to her.

"Please tell a radiologist to assist Dr. Sheridan in room 30 at once."

"Yes, Doctor."

MacMillan turned around and faced Jack.

"You did the right thing in bringing her here", she said.

"What's wrong with her?", he asked anxiously. "Why did you have to call on the other doctor?"

"Because he's a surgeon, and we need to see to the bleeding in her abdomen.

 _He thought of her convulsions at the bay. She'd had all the reasons in the world to scream. He should have taken her to hospital long ago._

"So she's going to theatre?"

"No, but she's got haemorrhages that we have to treat", Mac explained collectedly. "Fortunately, most of his punches hit her ribcage, but we have to repair her bleeding before she loses too much blood."

 _Mac decided not to tell him what could have happened if he'd punctured her liver or bile...or her lower abdomen. Then there definitely had been a need to operate._

"We will be able to treat it. She is very fit, which will speed up the healing process, she is going to be fully restored" she said as calmly as she could, not trying to let her own doubts shine through. _It felt like MacMillan mirrored his misgivings._

"Has she lost a lot of blood?" Jack asked in a tense voice.

"No. She most likely won't be needing a transfusion."

 _MacMillan seemed relieved too. She didn't have to tell him that Phryne had been lucky; he had seen too many cases of wives being beaten to death by their husbands, or being disfigured at the hands of their lovers, only to pass away in hospital later. The ones who didn't die were too frightened to witness or seek a divorce, and many claimed they still loved the man who abused them so they stayed with him. That could not be love...it was not._

"I should have taken her straight here" he said half aloud. MacMillan shook her head. "You've done everything you can", she disagreed. "It's not always easy to spot the warning signs" she tried to assure him "not even for us practitioners."

The Inspector didn't look like he believed her.

"Phryne's like a child, physically, when she's unwell", she said frankly" She holds it together well because she's bent on ignoring it that it's hard to spot the signs of her deterioration, until she drops unexpectedly."

 _That made sense; she had always been too headstrong for her own good. But they still should have realized she had been in a worse state than she appeared to be this whole time._

MacMillan started walking back to the end of the corridor. The young blonde nurse came out of Phryne's room and addressed her.

"Dr. Sheridan is of the same opinion, an operation is not necessary."

"Good. You can go back to your laundry chores now, nurse."

Jack looked at MacMillan who headed for Phryne's door.

"I don't know when you can see her, Inspector; she'll probably be sedated for a while after the angiography is completed. I'll let you know", she said, and went inside.

 _That same evening_

Phryne slowly gained consciousness again. A carrot-red blotch blurred her vision.

She could eventually make out the strands of Mac's flaming red hair.

"Hello gorgeous", Mac said, smiling at her. Phryne saw no one else in the room. _Jack must have returned to the station, yes, he couldn't leave it unattended when Collins were out on call._

"What time is it?"

"Do you have an appointment? It's early evening." Phryne tried to make sense of the time loss.

"You've been under sedation and I think you've been sleeping", Mac explained.

"We injected the catheter into your arm, if you recall, to perform the angiography, so you will need to keep the arm straight for the rest of the night."

Mac sat down on a chair beside the bed, gazing at her. Phryne seemed to be thinking about something.

"How do you feel?" _Mac didn't just mean physically._

"Better", Phryne replied, not being in acute pain anymore.

"We've given you a small dose of morphine, we don't want you to get addicted." Phryne looked to the window at the far end of the room.

"How can you do it Mac? Look at dead bodies, examine their cause of death...?"

Mac raised her eyebrows, astonished at the sharp turnabout of topic.

"You know I'm foremost a doctor, I only do post-mortems when I'm not needed here..." she replied, wondering where her friend was going with this.

"But it's still...it's already too late, they're already gone..." Phryne said half-aloud with a splinter in her voice. _The images of the girl in the morgue where very vivid to her._

"Yes, it won't change the fact that they died in vain", Mac replied, realizing Phryne must be thinking of Janey. "But it is important in order to catch their killers." Phryne didn't look like she took in her words. She wasn't usually this disillusioned, but who could blame her during the circumstances ...and she had blue ever since Janey's funeral last New Year's Eve.

"We have to focus on that, stop the ones who hurt them" she agreed with a faraway gaze.

"Why are you talking like this Phryne, this is usually all clear for you? You usually don't ponder whether what you're doing improves the world or not. You know why you're doing your work, what implications and effects it has."

She looked into Mac's warm light blue eyes. "How can you be so strong, Mac?"

"Because we have each other in this world, and we keep going for each other.

And we can make things better; change them, that's what you often tell me, if I need to remind you."

"Yes you're right", Phryne said slowly.

"Do you really think I would let you pick up the pieces all by yourself? _She would help her mourn Janey and make her live with the loss; take care not to let her slip back into the grey abyss._

Mac eventually managed to coax out a bleak smile out of her.

"Mac, I need you to call Jane. Tell her and Dot they can stay longer at Werribee if they like. _It was too much to ask to let her call them herself, Mac would never let her._

"And what should I tell them about you?"

"That the Inspector and I had to travel to Sydney or somewhere to go undercover for the investigation.

"You should _try_ to let people take care of you...", Mac sighed.

"No, it's not that, this is Jane, I don't want her to find out, she's already witnessed enough, gone through too much.

"If you're thinking of Murdoch Foyle, she wasn't long in his clutches before the Inspector came to her rescue, and she kept a cool head until they could get out of there. She's a lot stronger than you think."

"But I want to shield her from...

"Life?"

"You call criminals and wife-beaters "life"? Phryne scoffed.

"I understand you don't want her to know you've been treated like this, but she's hardly a child any more, she is 14", Mac remarked calmly. "And there are nasty bastards out there, why shouldn't she be aware of that?

"I just mean she doesn't have to know about all the horrors that go on in the world. How would the knowledge of _this_ , she said, looking down on her body, "do her any good? It would only make think we aren't safe anywhere. And I want her to feel safe...to remain happy."

"You want to protect her," Mac corrected. "Like you couldn't protect Janey."

Phryne was struck dumb. _Mac was so terribly frank sometimes._

"I've never heard you profess you think knowledge could be harmful", Mac went on. _It was true, she never regretted knowing even the darkest things, but she often wanted to shield the people she cared for from knowing, for their own good._

"Then this is an exception", Phryne replied.

"Alright, but it's best if you talk to her yourself."

"I didn't think you'd let me."

"But then you'll have to rest, _properly_ ", she said sternly.

 _Later in the evening_

Jack was waiting disquietly in the empty corridor outside the room. The nurses and doctors were busy at the ward. There was a hushed suppressed silence out here, doors shut tight to suffocate the sound of the patients' agony...the doctors were bent on patching them up again but not seeking the real source of their pain, or caring if they could bear the aftermath of it. But then, what more could they do, it was too late for many of these women, whether raped, beaten or in trouble; the harm had already been made and now they had to go on living with it...what now could be left of the life they had once had.

He searched his pockets and took out the photographs of Phryne to look at them once more. They weren't very sharp and had little contrast in them but they numbed his being thoroughly all the same. He forced himself not to look away from them; he had to know exactly what the man had done to her. The revelation of the full extent of her injuries was too fresh for him; it had jolted him.

Her lower ribs and stomach was if possible even more banged up than her arms. God, he just wanted to go into her room and comfort her, no matter if she wanted him to or not.

How many punches had it taken to beaten her to a frazzle, how long had that man been going on? It hurt to think of it. How many blows had he inflicted on her before being satisfied...until she begged him for mercy, yielded to him, or was rendered unconscious...?

Jack stowed away the photos. Why hadn't he realized she'd been battered senseless, it was all so evident looking back, her strange behaviour and reactions... and he'd even dreamt about it, why hadn't he seen it...? It was as if he'd felt in his bones all along that she'd been badly hurt, but hadn't heeded the notion.

In some ways it didn't matter who it was, like she had said herself, because it couldn't make it undone, couldn't erase her pain or the memory of it. Did the man deserve to die for hurting her? Yes...he wasn't surprised at himself for thinking it...yes he did, no matter who he was; death was a just punishment for his atrocious actions...no matter what she had said or done that had enraged him...she had probably not provoked him at all, he could have been ticked off by nothing.

He wished he could believe MacMillan's words that she would make a full recovery...

"You can't be here, mister. No men are allowed up here"

He hadn't noticed the old nurse with the glasses walking up to him.

"I'm a police officer", he managed to utter.

"You're a man", she corrected. "We have many women here that have been mistreated in various ways, and the mere sight of a man can upset them. "

"I'm charged with protecting one of your patients" he said feebly.

"Then you can do it from the stairwell."

"You don't understand, her abuser might come back, visit her here", he insisted, his voice getting strained.

"She is perfectly safe with us."

"That's not true and you know it, anyone could get in here" he replied coldly.

"I need you to leave." He still looked defiant. "There is only one way in", she added, pointing to the exit to the stairs, "and you'll be standing next to it. If I catch you anywhere near the wards I will have you forcibly removed from the building. As you well know the police have no authority here."

Jack inspected the corridor and the windows before leaving so there really was no chance of getting in other than through the door at the other end where he'd be standing.

Phryne put the receiver on her pillow in the ward Mac had wheeled her to.

"Mr. B, do you have the number to the cottage in Werribee where Dot and Jane are staying. _Aunt P had said she and Arthur would join them today._

"Excellent. I'm at the hospital and they won't let me out in a jiffy, so you don't have to prepare dinner for me. And you can take the day off tomorrow.

"Is there anything I can get you, miss?

"No."

"Are you sure, I'm heading into town anyway."

"Well...in that case, could you bring me my nightgown, if it's not too much trouble?

"Is that the black one with fighting cocks on the back?"  
"That's the one.

"Certainly, miss.

"Thank you Mr. Butler."

Phryne ended the call and put the receiver to her ear again.

"Operator, could you get me 175 82 to Werribee, please?"

Jane picked up the telephone at the other end.

"Oh hello, we are just going out to the beach for a night plunge." She definitely sounded like she was on the go.

"Jane...how lovely to hear from you", Phryne smiled.

"It's only been a day, Phryne."

"Nonetheless."

Jane was in high spirits. "Are you alright?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes, thank you", Phryne replied trying to sound it.

"You sound tired", Jane remarked casually.

"I am", she admitted. "Would you like to stay longer at Werribee or do you want come home?

"Oh could we, I've find out there's this incredible historian site further up the coast, and I'm dying to see it, but Aunt Prudence says it's quite a long drive on bumpy roads."

"It sounds too intriguing to resist." Phryne said, getting caught up in Jane's bubbling enthusiasm.

"Are you sure you don't want to come home?"

"Do you miss me that much?" Jane giggled.

"Yes...yes I do", Phryne said sincerely in a low voice.

"We're having so much fun; there are loads to see around here," she said excitedly, speaking fast.

"I am very glad to hear it", Phryne smiled. "So you don't feel like I've sent you away."

"Of course not! _No_ ",sheemphasizedwarmly _._ Do you and the Inspector need another day to solve the case?

"Yes exactly." Jane had guessed it, she was such a bright girl. "It's hard to tell how long it will take. We may have to stay in Sydney overnight so if you don't mind...

"We'll be _fine_ , we're having a great time. I could stay here for ever, if Auntie would let me."

"Are you sure?" Phryne asked, slightly baffled by her ardour.

"Yes! I have to go now, Aunt P is getting impatient."

Jane really was an angel. So full of life and spirit, and such a clever head and thirst for learning. And she was plucky too. She was getting quite grown up; she'd matured so quickly, Phryne wondered how she could have missed it. Well, her house was pretty much in a swirl, they were always up to something, Jane, Dot and she, often out on excursions, visiting new places, going to all the different women's societies, helping people seeking their support in different ways, and so on...and Jane did have long days at school. But still.

Mac wheeled her back to her room before going on her shift. Phryne told her what Jane had said.

"She's found this historic site up in the hills, apparently some very old erected stones. She may be getting old, but at least she's not as into boys as our flower maidens were, and some were much older than her."

"What are men to rocks and mountains, eh?"

"Something like that, Phryne shrugged with a smirk.

Not many people passed through the staircase, except for a few doctors and a few young men being denied access. Jack had no idea how long he had been waiting, he couldn't tell from the sun shining through the window...time seemed to drag endlessly out here. A short man with a black bowler carrying a small bag ascended the stairs. He looked familiar.

"Mr. Butler?"

"Inspector Robinson. Is she on this floor?"

Jack cleared his throat to not sound so hoarse.

"Yes...at the far end of the corridor."

"I had no idea she was so unwell", Mr Butler said reaching the last step and taking off his hat.

"They say she will...heal quickly.

Jack hadn't bothered question him about Phryne's abuser, convinced he would have told him if knew the identity of the man, despite being even more loyal to her than MacMillan. He could tell by just looking at him that he thought this was just as serious as he did, and that men like this ought to be put behind bars. They had both been to the war and experiences like that left certain marks and formed inexplicable mutual understandings.

"You don't who beat her?", Mr. Butler asked.

"No...no I don't." _Yet, he thought._ "But you were with her that evening?" Jack tried to make his tone less accusing.

"Yes. I was in my quarters, at the other end of the house, regrettably, when it started", Mr. Butler replied quietly.

 _He shouldn't blame him; he seemed just as remorseful about not being able to come to her rescue in time. The man must have been so busy mauling her about that Mr Butler had managed to catch him off guard. If he hadn't knocked him out, which he must have done, she might have been dead by now._

"I can't tell you much about him", Mr. Butler said with regret in his voice. "I had never seen him before...he was a bit taller than me, muscular and dark-haired."

 _That was nothing to go on. But she hadn't been with him before which was contrary to his assumptions._

"I didn't like the look of him", the butler went on gravely, "I could tell he was the kind who didn't respect ladies. But she seemed very intent on inviting him over, she made it clear it was an important evening, everything had to be perfect."

Jack sighed. _Why did she have to invite him over? Was it business or pleasure? She couldn't have fancied him; her taste in men wasn't that bad. Nothing made sense. She was usually a good judge of character; she must have known or at least suspected he was a brute. But he couldn't find any reason why she would let a man like that into the house, it was extremely thoughtless and not like her. But she had been out of sorts lately, not just these few days, but for weeks, which only strengthened his belief that the dead girls had reminded her of Janey and she was still trying to get over the fact that they had dug her up more than a month ago. He should try and hold down his own anguish to focus on comforting her as soon as he could go into her._

Mr. Butler opened the door the second floor. The spectacled old nurse heard him approach and met him halfway.

"Good evening, sir. The visiting hours have ended."

"I am aware of that. I'm here for Miss Fisher."

"Are you the butler?"

"Yes."

She eyed him suspiciously so Jack vouched for him and for some reason the nurse believed him. She let Mr. Butler into the corridor on the condition that he went straight to Miss Fisher's room and back again, without visiting the ward.

"I need to speak with Doctor MacMillan", Jack requested as the nurse was about to close the door.

"She is busy; I will tell her you asked for her. Oh, and a Constable Collins called, leaving you a message. He wondered why you had left the station unattended for so long, and said you could reach him in Werribee if you needed him."

"Thank you, nurse", Jack replied. She left him in the stairwell. Collins could be so unnecessarily nervous sometimes.

Mr. Butler came by with the night gown and a set of clothes soon after Phryne had returned from the ward. The nurse didn't let him stay for long, but she doubted she had the energy to speak with him much longer. She stripped down in her undergarments and got into the silk gown, tying the sharp as lightly as possible to avoid putting pressure on her rigid stomach.

She wasn't sure what they had done to her exactly, but apparently they had been successful in stanching the bleeding. They truly did work magic here. How many women they must have saved, from childbirth and abortions gone wrong and unwanted marriages. ...They must have helped thousands of them, not just giving them back life but relieving them of heavy burdens. She had always been in awe of their tireless and devoted work.

The pain had reached the next level, no longer queasily intense but shooting ice-cold daggers through her torso, like someone grinding her down bit by bit. She just had to find something worse than this to think about. It was easy...: The raped girl in the morgue...Janey...and Jane being captured by Foyle last month. The images of them floated around in her mind, filling her with gnawing remorse too deep to go away. She felt herself fall apart, wondering listlessly how she would last the night. Jack had saved her yesterday by taking her to the opera, enveloping her in his soothing company, scattering the qualms that kept haunting her in her solitude. He had this wonderful effortless ability, of which he was completely unaware, of making her utterly at ease whenever she was in his presence. But she shouldn't long for him, it was egoistic of her...she was glad he wasn't her since it would probably hurt him more, and she'd already hurt him way too much.

And finally being on her own she could moan and scream as much as she wanted. She'd gotten over worse things, she would cope, she always did...She didn't need no man, and she didn't need him. The desire for comfort was only selfish. The night would be long, it had just begun, but it would end, and hopefully this pain too, though it was hard to believe at this point...but it would always be overshadowed by the feelings of remorse.

It felt righteous that Derrington had beaten her, it made her feel like she'd paid an ounce of her surmountable debt to Janey, a debt she would never pay off, since she hadn't looked after her little sister that fatal day. It didn't mean she didn't think what he'd done was wrong and he deserved to be punished for it. But the result of it, her injuries and this agony, and the fact that he'd done it to _her_ , felt...right.

Was this how Janey had felt, the last moments of her life, before Murdoch struck her dead? Lying deep in the soil, waiting to be decayed. She shouldn't have died instead of her! She was far too young...too little. Too good and kind...and too pure. If only Janey could have been allowed to live...then she could have born anything, endured any agony for her sake...now the mere mention of her name crippled her instantly.

There was only one way to elude the remorse for a moment eating into her; and that was if she were to let herself pass into the even darker phase where nothing but an ominous callousness awaited her. She'd been there before, although it had been quite a while now, but she felt perilously drawn to it. Once there, the callous indifference would render her passive, she would care nothing for the world or its people, not even for Jane. And that was unforgivable to do...And it would be hard to put herself back again. She _had_ to resist the lure of it...she couldn't go there. There were people who relied on her, she had to be there for them, she couldn't shun life – for their sake she would endeavour.

 _At the same time in the stairwell_

Mr. Butler faced him as he came out from the corridor.

"I got hold of Dr. MacMillan for you, she apologizes for not giving you access to the ward. You can see her now."

Jack went towards her room. He could see through the window on her door, now that the blind wasn't drawn, that she was alone. _Why wasn't someone watching over her?_

The young blonde nurse came out of a room behind him.

"You aren't allowed in here! If Nurse Jowett finds you here she will ban you."

"I have to see her...just to make sure she's alright.

"Miss Fisher mustn't be disturbed, she needs rest. I must ask you to leave, sir."

"Let me sit with her" he said entreatingly. He did not know what he would do if they would deny him this. "I promise I won't go near the wards", he added.

Nurse Jowett's disapproving voice was suddenly heard from the storeroom.

"Nurse Talbot, let him in. Dr. MacMillan has exempted the Inspector from the rules."

Jack turned towards Phryne's door again.

"Her condition is stable, the angiography was successful"; Nurse Talbot notified him. "But she has been sedated and needs all the rest she can get. If she complains about pain don't get alarmed, it's as it should be, we're weaning her off morphine." She went into another room. _As it should be? Is that all she could say, all they could do for her?_

Phryne heard the door open. Jack paused at the doorstep, just stood there, looking at her with his sincere eyes. She looked up into his beautiful earnest face, feeling something thawing her inwardly. He didn't say anything...just went to the bedside. He didn't have to; she didn't even have to hear his warm deep voice or feel his slight touch to feel irrevocably better. He just gave her one look and with that look pulled her straight into the present, dissolving the darkness in her mind. He must understand what kind of impact he had on her...Didn't he perceive it? No, he was too humble.

She had been wrong; she had thought he had gone home for the day. But a nurse would surely come and shoo him away any minute, just like they had done to Mr. Butler.

She did look pleased to see him.

"How are you feeling?" He sat down on the chair next to the head of her bed.

"Tired. They must have given me something."

"You've been under sedation. And you're probably anaemic", he replied, thinking of the amount of blood she must have lost.

She didn't seem to be concerned about it. She was looking at him calmly, not letting go of his face for a second.

He suddenly noticed her wrists were all blue.

"Did he tie you up?" he asked, feeling like a freezing wave hit him inside.

"No, God no", she swore, flinching at the sudden memory of Derrington's first blow to her head.

"Tell me what happened?", he said quietly, trying not to press her.

"I can't." She sounded regretful. _He had been raging mad; hit her repeatedly with such force it was strange how she had been able to get out the gun from the drawer without being knocked over._

"Why did he beat you?"

"I don't like withholding things for you Jack, but I really can't tell you" she said feebly, not averting her eyes.

"Has he threatened you if you say anything..." he said, struggling to read between the lines, to understand.

"No..."

"Did he say he would come back for you if you told...

"No, nothing like that. He won't return, it's an impossibility." She sounded weary.

"How can you be so sure?", Jack insisted.

"It's physically impossible", she said resolutely. "Completely."

He had to take her word for it.

"I won't tell you any more lies", she promised him. "But that means you won't get any answers" she said apologetically, her eyelids dropping.

Under any other circumstances he would have pushed it further, making her tell him, but his questions clearly brought agitating images to her mind, he could see her trying to dismiss them...and he didn't want to force her to relive the events. But sometime later on he would have to.

However, he couldn't help feeling slightly surprised that she wouldn't tell him, even now when he knew of all her injuries. It was different when he had only thought she'd been hit in her face, but now... Now she couldn't deny it had happened or the extent of it.

She was still searching his face, as if waiting for him to reject her unwillingness to tell him anything.

"The nurses say you need a lot of rest", he said, pulling the blanket over her arms.

She opened her mouth to say something but he silenced her with a look and indicated that should take it easy.

She looked grateful but still remorseful as he leaned back on the chair.

Jack remained silent, but Phryne couldn't settle enough to drift away to sleep, even though she was exhausted. She could her footsteps outside in the corridor, and every time they came near her door she expected a nurse to come in and send him away, because of some idiotic visitation regulation...but no one came.

The morphine was leaving her body; she could feel the haze enshrouding her gradually lifting.

An hour went past; maybe too, he didn't look at his wristwatch. She was holding her eyes closed but she was clearly not asleep. A nurse came in a few times and checked her vital signs, but for the most part they just looked in on her through the small window in the door.

She twisted and turned again, unable to settle, trying to worm herself out of the escalating pain. She bit her knuckles to hold back the moaning and whimpering coming out of her...

"Phryne?"

She couldn't answer. _He shouldn't see her like this, it wasn't kind to him._

"Phryne."

She turned her head away from him and shoved her fist further back in her mouth, biting her knuckles harder. Apparently he saw it because he gently grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her.

"You'll hurt yourself." He was surprised her knuckles weren't bleeding already.

She took a few deep breaths and tried to keep back the moans but it didn't work. The knuckles had done it.

He watched her strain her every muscle in her body. He put his palm on her forehead. "Try and relax" she could hear his humming voice. _Relax? She had to dig her heels in against the devilry._ She shook her head, she couldn't keep still. He began stroking her forehead and hair. It calmed her somewhat, she stopped tossing around but she was still very tense. Her face was still contorted by the pain.

"I'll tell them you need morphine." He rose from the chair and looked to the door.

"Are you leaving?" she asked anxiously, as if she hadn't heard him. _Please don't go._

He saw a nurse pass by through the window in the door.

"Nurse!"

She backtracked and went into them.

"Can't you give her anything?", Jack asked as Phryne was moaning all the louder. The nurse went to her bedpost and picked up the clipboard hanging on the footboard.

"Abdominal haemorrhage"; she read, skimming through the notes. "No, she's had her last dose of morphine, and I can't give her anything else" she said to him and took Phryne pulse.

"Any pain in your arm that wasn't there before?", she asked, inspecting Phryne's left arm.

"No", Phryne gasped.

"It doesn't feel numb or cold?"  
"No."

"Good", she said, taking her blood pressure and turning to Jack. "She's got no side effects of the angiography. The pain itself isn't dangerous, merely uncomfortable.

"Why can't you give her something for it?" Jack asked hopelessly.

"It says here she's taken too much analgesic in the last 48 hours, it would be detrimental to give her more." The nurse smoothed her pillow and straightened Phryne's legs.

"Try not to twist your stomach so it gets a chance to heal. You'll feel better tomorrow."

She went to the door.

"Oh and if she wants to drink it's only good; she's lost a lot of fluids. Do you want some now", she asked Phryne.

"No thank you", she slurred.

The nurse left them alone and Phryne shut her eyes as Jack sat down. She kept squirming were she lay, biting her knuckles. He caressed her cheek; wishing he could make her suffering disappear, transfer it onto him instead. She looked up at him, giving him a bleak smile, then closed her eyes again.

After a while she went still. He looked at her. She had finally fallen asleep. He saw that her glass was nearly empty so he rose from the chair to get the jug from the table. The moonlight flooded the room like a celestial light illuminating the world at sleep. He poured a glass of water when suddenly felt her hand clutching his wrist.

"Stay", she pleaded.

 _She thought he was going, leaving her._ He turned back to her, meeting her earnest sad eyes.

"Please." She searched his eyes, awaiting his answer breathlessly. Then he realized it was nearly midnight, he shouldn't stay, he couldn't, it wasn't proper with her being in a room of her own and not on the ward. But he didn't want to leave her, the nurses didn't check on her often, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be comfortable to leave her alone again; it felt so unsafe when something like this had happened to her.

"Jack?". Her face was so forlorn.

"I will" he said, taking her hand in his.

"Thank you", she whispered.

 _How could she think he would leave her in this state, when she was so weak?_

It took ages before she fell asleep for real. In the end she was so shattered she just dozed off. Jack kept her hand in his, afraid she would wake up if he let go.

 _Later that night_

He must have nodded off for a moment, for when he opened his eyes the bed was empty. He looked around. She was pacing in front of the window, the moonlight glossing the black of her gown.

"You shouldn't be up", he said. "You have to rest". He went up to her.

She paused by the windowsill and turned her face and looked at him.

"I can't lie down...can't settle."

"But walking helps?", he asked in disbelief.

"...I don't know..." _It hurt just as much as before, but at least this was a way of change, walking, not lying down._

"You must go back to bed", he said quietly.

She continued pacing.

"It's not good for you."

"It can't make it worse." _Nothing amplified the pain or weakened it; it remained constant no matter what she did._

"You don't know that." _No but doctors didn't know everything either, and she had to deal with the pain her way._

He was almost prepared to let her do anything she wanted to make her feel better; to let her have anything, even a stiff drink if that was what she craved. She looked so indifferent he wondered how he would have the heart to deny her. She must be in excruciating pain; it formed narrow lines in her forehead.

"Please go back to bed..." he whispered.

She turned slowly from the window, towards him, and the movement made the gown slid open. Her black and blue body glared ghastly in the silvery light. His eyes unwittingly went down to her thrashed stomach and froze. The sight pierced his heart. Her skin was worryingly sore and swollen. She followed his gaze. She could see her bandeau was bared too, but she was in too much agony to bother. And it was only Jack. Just Jack...she trusted him too much to give a damn. She didn't bother doing anything about it either, she didn't see much point, he'd already seen it.

He could do what he wanted with her, she willingly handed herself to him...she was too detached from her self-will in this state...and she trusted him with her soul.

He hadn't stirred. She looked up at him...how she longed for his touch...

She took a deep breath and he could see her lower ribs sticking out under all the bruising. He spotted her deformed rib...no wonder her breath had been ragged all afternoon. And her sharp hipbones...he couldn't imagine her being so thin under the clothes, she'd always been slim but this skinny?

He gripped the revers of her night gown and closed it for her, careful not to brush against her skin. She gazed at him, in a grateful yet passive way, as if her well-being didn't matter to her the slightest.

She tottered back to the bed and sat down, wincing. She lay down and Jack covered her with the quilt.

Phryne tried to annihilate the pain with her mind. She curled herself, drew her knees up towards her belly, fancying it would help. She could see Jack's eyes, filled with concern, following her every move...she wished he wouldn't take it so hard, it was nothing but bloody pain, it didn't do her any damage.

"Phryne." But oh, they way he said her name; so softly and with such warmth.

He stroke her cheek and she tried to cling to that, tried to black out the rest, the twinges. He would let go in a second, she was sure. She put her own hand over his to refrain him from it. He gave her a quizzical look but didn't take his hand away. She looked at him quietly.

"It means a lot, you being here."

He just looked at her tenderly.

"I mean it", Phryne insisted weakly.

"You don't need to talk. Try and breathe", he suggested, unfolding her legs to alleviate her agony.

 _I couldn't fight this devilry without you, she thought. Thank you._

She did not know how, but eventually she went to sleep, with his hand on her cheek.

Jack watched over her throughout the night. He didn't get a wink of sleep; he just sat there, gazing at her. In the small hours of the morning she was getting restless in her sleep again, but this time she seemed to be troubled by something in her mind and not just her body.

Jack leaned forward on the chair and felt her forehead. It was quite warm but not feverish. She kept tossing her head to the side and mumbled something. She must be dreaming.

"No!" she cried. Whatever was happening inside her head it wasn't good. She began scratching her forearms with her nails. He parted her arms from each other and put the quilt over them.

"Janey!" she wailed. "...Janey...I'm sorry..." "Come back...take me and let her go in my stead!" she begged. He put a hand on her shoulder.

He had to wake her up; end her nightmare, it was taking its toll on her. He shook her shoulder, the only bruise-free spot on her body.

"Phryne! Wake up, you're dreaming. Phryne." He eventually managed to pull her out of the land of dreams. She opened her eyes dazed and confused. She sat up with great effort, breathing heavily.

"You were dreaming but you're awake now" he said softly. He could tell she was very rattled.

"...yes...just a bad dream" she mumbled faintly, folding her hands tight in her lap. How she _wished_ that were true, that she could wake up to find that Janey was alive, that it had been a dream and nothing more. She was so relieved Jack was here...If he hadn't she would have slipped into that callous no man's land by now and there would be no coming back.

She had dark circles under her eyes which glistened with tears.

"You were screaming...", he said. She looked up at him. "Oh..." She hadn't realised she talked in her sleep. "I'm sorry...did I wake you?" She kept wringing her hands, pressing her thumb at the bruised wrist. He could see she was still thinking about the dream, about Janey.

His warm beautiful hands embraced hers. She looked down on them.

"You couldn't save her", he said, almost inaudibly, "because it wasn't your fault that she disappeared, it was no one's fault but Foyle's. You couldn't have foreseen it, and you couldn't have prevented it." She stopped staring at his hands and met his gaze. "If you'd been with your sister that whole time Foyle would just have tried and abduct her another day". His voice had gotten even deeper. She exhaled slowly. "You're not to blame" he concluded. _He was so kind-hearted. She could never explain him how the abuse paid off somewhat of her debt...he would misunderstand._

Her sorrow-filled eyes looked at him, quietly, fondly. She looked like she could never could go back to sleep now. Why couldn't she forgive herself for Janey's death?... Perhaps it was too much to ask...

 _She dreaded lying down in the bed; if she did she would fall back into the same nightmare..._

She was immersed in her grief. How could he make her go to sleep now? She needed more rest.

She was so lonesome in her grief; she must have born it all alone her whole life – no parents to share it with, no other siblings. And he couldn't stop her blaming herself...It felt awful that he couldn't at least allay her in her grief. He had to stop her self-reproaching thoughts he could see whirling around in her mind. He should never have let her in on the case, the murdered girls had of course reminded her of her sister, not that she needed reminding, but it had aggravated it.

Sometimes he thought she would never mend...and in some ways she wouldn't. But she was a survivor, which meant she went through fire and came out on the other side, very scarred...but how much had those scars affected her in the process...she would pull through, but at what cost? How much would it hurt her?

A strand of hair fell into her face so he brushed it away with his fingers. She wasn't blinking or looking away from him. She looked into his eyes as if to ask for his permission for something. She moved to the edge of the bed, closer to his chair where he was sitting near her pillow. She tentatively leaned closer to him and rested her head on his chest. He didn't seem to mind so she shut her eyes heavy with sleep deprivation and suddenly her arm was around his waist. He was surprised once more of her swift touch...her closeness made him completely warm inside.

As lightly as he could he put his arm around her, afraid he might accidently touch a sore point on her body.

He felt her shift. Had he been too presumptuous when answering her touch? But no, she just seemed to huddle up. She became very still again. He put his other arm around her back. It felt completely different from steadying her in the river lands, or carrying her into the manor. Her breathing slowed down, but he could feel her pulse throbbing quite fast.

His hand was resting on her side above her waist. He could feel her ribs through the thin fabric of her gown whenever her lungs filled with air. The silk really was wafer-thin. He couldn't help thinking of the bruises thereunder, deforming her beautiful body, inflicting her with such agony. He couldn't comprehend how anyone could have done such a thing to her, designedly. He instinctively held her closer.

The sight of her torso studded with bruises would be for ever engraved in him.

She whimpered suddenly. Was he holding her too tight? She felt him relinquish his embrace somewhat.

 _No...was he releasing her?_ She put her hand on his breast as if to stop him and opened her eyes and gave him a questioning look. He was so close to her face that he decided not lock eyes with her for too long. She shut her eyes when he enfolded her in his arms again...he had understand her gesture.

She settled for real for the first time of the night, relaxing in his arms. She could hear his steady heartbeat thumping in his chest. _This was where she belonged, she thought, before drifting into sleep._

In a few minutes she was fast asleep. He took her pillow and put it against the wall for them to rest on so it would be more comfortable.

It took a long time before he too fell asleep. It was hard to discard the sensation of her closeness. Whenever she shifted or inhaled her body pressed lightly against his, and he loved the way it made him feel. It was a stirring sensation that seeped into his every fibre.

In the hour before dawn Jack woke up. She was still very much in his arms. His head had fallen to the side and was resting on hers. He lifted his head and looked at her, feeling her body against his chest rise and fall with every breath. Her lips were slightly parted and her forehead wasn't wrinkled anymore...perhaps the pain had subsided... neither did she seem to be dreaming. His hand was resting on her arm...she was remarkably soft. He had to contain himself from caressing her skin... she was even softer than the silk of her gown.

It couldn't be good for her to be curled up like this, though. He sat up more upright and slowly leaned over the bed, trying not to wake her, steadying her head and body with one arm under her neck and the other under her shoulder blades, and laid her down gently. It was very cold in her bed. He released his arm from under her and tucked her in the blanket. She stirred and stretched her arm as if reaching for something.

"Go back to sleep" he whispered, lifting her head slightly to make room for the pillow. She wasn't really conscious. She turned her head towards him unknowingly. He already missed the feeling of having her in his arms... But she needed to rest where her belly was stretched out, so she should sleep in her bed.

She took his hand.

"Are you awake?" he said. No answer. She must be asleep then. She did seem to be. He kept his hand in hers and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

She had warmed him and now he felt a chill in the room, as was often the case right before dawn.

Dawn was upon them. The first rays of the sun filtered through the window.

Phryne was sleeping soundly, with deep breaths. He was relived she was finally getting proper rest.

It was almost seven o'clock. He got up from his seat and put on his coat. He had to unlock the office and get in touch with the other Inspector so he could change shifts with him. He took his hat from the table and turned to her. Her ruffled black hair enclosed her round face and her otherwise deep red lips were pale and chapped. He put his hand on her cheek, caressing her lightly, knowing this was an unattainable dream he should have to let go of. He wanted to take her head in his hands, but he didn't dare, not even now that she was fast asleep. She looked so small and easeful, at rest and free.

"Animula vagula, blandula", he mumbled, and let go of her cheek reluctantly. _Little wandering soul._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chap VII – 7**

 ** _Monday morning_**

He had never thought he would ever hold her...

that she would be in his arms like that...not because she had fainted nor needed an arm to lean on...but like last night, like she really wanted him to... She had not only accepted his comfort, she had actively sought it.

He kept returning to it: her arm around his waist, her grief-struck eyes and apparent want for his comfort…the warmth of her body, the sound of her breathing, and how she for the first time during the night had been so settled, so at ease, finally getting rest curled up against him. He wanted to stay in the memory of it all day…

He longed for her, he could not deny it, of holding her close again, enveloping her in his arms again...

Was it possible to be so exalted and so sorrowful at the same time? Exalted by her closeness and devastated by her agony. He fervently hoped her pain had subsided by now. He hadn't wanted to leave her so early in the morning, but she had been sleeping soundly, and he had to ask the inspector in person at City Central to persuade him to take over his shift, which he luckily agreed to, so he could visit her later. And also so he could find out who'd mauled her, without being distracted by anything else. If he could be glad of anything of the state of things, it was that she hadn't been with child at least, that the man hadn't been her previous lover, as neither Mr. Butler or Dot had seen him before.

He was not even beginning to take in or come to terms with the extent of her abuse…he needed time and answers to process it. He had to stop thinking of her, he had things to do.

"When is your day off for working this Sunday, Collins?"

"Tuesday and Wednesday, sir. Thursday I'm here again."

 ** _At the Women's Hospital_**

Phryne woke up with the subtle feeling of someone holding her still lingering...

The angel figure at her bedside was gone. But it hadn't been a dream, he _had_ been there, he had embraced her. He had held her so meltingly tenderly...she for the first time regretted waking up alone in bed.

It would be too much to ask to wake up in the morning in his arms...

Every time she had been on the verge of consciousness she had felt him holding her, so closely, that she dosed off again out of mere contentment. He had been so affectionate...she had never thought he would have answered her touch like that. It bestirred something deep inside her, kindling a fire of a different kind... it wasn't that bright blaze, easily extinguishable, that she was used to, it was something else...a slow-burning, steadfast flame, glowing with perpetual warmth... never to fade and wane...

The nightmare had been long and tumultuous, Renée had turned into Derrington and the girl in the morgue, lying cold and grey on the bunk, had transformed into Janey, withering away into a grimy skeleton. But somehow the memory of Jack holding her outshone it, made it fade into a distance.

Even if they been in a hospital and not at home exactly, and she had been in a bad way, she still felt elevated by the fact that he had responded to her touch with such sincerity.

When would she see him again..?

 ** _City South_**

Jack had called Mr. Butler to ask him if he'd heard the man at dinner mention a profession or a business he was part of, but he had told him Phryne had told him to disturb them as little as possible. _Damn. It would be so much easier if he knew what kind of trade or business he was in so he could narrow down his list._ A man like that was likely to have been convicted, or at least previously reported for abuse, so Jack had been going through the voluminous amount of convicts of abuse, battering and affray with Mr. Butler's description of his person – but they were too many. None of them had a connection to any of the associations, boards, committees and societies where Phryne was a member, neither were they frequent visitors to any of her favourite jazz clubs...but she could have met him anywhere.

He should search her house, now when it was empty and she was safe at hospital, it was the only way. Hopefully there could be some traces of the man, some clues that could point him in the right direction. He decided to go there before he visited her.

 ** _The hospital_**

Phryne had been moved to the ward on the same floor when Mac came to see her.

"Aren't you looking bright", Max smiled, taking in Phryne's rosy cheeks and relaxed appearance.

"Do you ever not work, Mac?"

"My shift has nearly ended, actually."

Phryne wrinkled her forehead seeing how knackered she looked. "How many nights in a row have you been on call" she asked Mac worriedly.

"I'm used to it, Phrynekins", she said reassuringly.

"It's not good for you; I often fear you work too hard, too long days."

"You're the one to talk. I've made of stern stuff." Mac stifled a yawn.

"I suspect you don't go home often and sleep?"

"My flat isn't exactly homely", she replied, trying to steer the conversation. "Let's talk about you."

"You know you can stay over at my place" Phryne went on sweetly.

Mac just rolled her eyes slightly amused and looked at her test results. She seemed much improved, and not just in her pain levels. She was pleased with how the haemorrhage was healing but even more so with Phryne's remarkably improved spirits and her peace of mind. There were some physical issues they needed to address, though.

"You requested more morphine late last night, for obvious reasons..."

"I didn't." Mac looked up at her.

"According to Nurse Wenden you did."

 _But she hadn't, she was sure of it, even though the pain had befuddled many a thoughts. Then she remembered..._

"Oh, Jack did."

"Jack...", Mac repeated slowly. Phryne wasn't sure she liked the double-edge tone of her voice and didn't understand why she was so unfoundedly smiley all of a sudden.

Mac had told the nurses not to shoo him away, that he was a policeman charged with her protection, sure he would only stay for as long as was proper, but if he'd been with her that late it was news to her.

"How long did he stay, exactly?". Mac light blue eyes glimmered.

Phryne's face was inscrutable. "Just a while", she replied innocently.

Mac tried to read her mind. No matter how long he'd stayed she was glad he had, relieved someone had been with her the whole time when she herself hadn't been able to see to her in the late hours of the night. Perhaps he had something to do with her heightened spirits too...

"You should know the Inspector was quite distressed after he'd brought you here yesterday"

"It would have been best if he hadn't found out. I didn't break it to him in a gentle way", Phryne said remorsefully.

"That's not what I meant, and there is no gentle way", Mac disagreed. "I don't think you're fully aware of...". _How should she put this?_ "Just, tell me you didn't belittle his worry, that you didn't push him away? I know you were in severe pain but you can't cope with this on your own, Phryne."

"I didn't", Phryne said sincerely, remembering his tender touch... _and he hadn't taken his hand away when she'd put it on her cheek._ She tried not to give away her thoughts but felt herself smile.

"You're downplaying the gravity of your abuse."

"You know me too well, Mac."

Mac gave up for now, she would have to chide her another day. She didn't want to spoil her good mood, a mind at ease was just as important to make a full recovery as bed rest.

Mac scribbled something on her clipboard.

"We can't give you any analgesics for the next two weeks" she said regrettably, cursing the criminal who'd marred her.

Phryne presumed the pain couldn't get worse at least. _Two weeks. Well, that's for indulging in hydrocodone and scotch... there was nothing but to atone for it._

"Are you prescribing me booze instead?" she asked partly serious, partly hopeful.

"Let's say there's no risk you'll mix whiskey with anything detrimental. I'm prescribing you sleep, rest, drink and food."

"Great, whiskey and I will keep each other company."

"Well, you're gonna need it."

 _Hard to get your hands on liquor on a hospital ward, though, Phryne thought._

"Talking of food", Mac continued, "you've never been a poor eater, Phryne..."

"Only poor."

"But you've lost considerably a lot of weight just this past month.

"What." _...really?_ "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, it's my job. And you do go on about dress measurements quite a lot."

Phryne, slightly perplexed, wondered how this could have happened, she loved food.

"So if you want to keep up that great physique of yours you need to eat yourself in shape. Doesn't Mr. Butler cook you hot meals?" Mac asked, looking kindly at her.

"Yes." But she'd been out wandering a lot at night time lately, when Jane was with a friend or had already gone to bed, whilst telling Mr. B she'd be dining out. Just walking, pondering, on the plains and along the sand dunes, wherever her feet and mind strayed. Still, that it had made such a difference, skipping a few meals...on the other hand; she had no idea how many nights she'd been doing that, now that she thought about it, it had almost become a habit of late.

"You'll be confined to bed here for a couple of days", Mac told her. "Can I trust you not to run away and chase after the scoundrel that marred you?"

"I told you, he isn't going anywhere", Phryne replied calmly.

"I figured as much since I know you wouldn't let a man like that walk freely, but are you absolutely sure he won't come after you again? Something about you obviously enraged him terribly", she said in an undertone.

"I managed to wrack him up pretty good myself", she replied casually.

Mac looked questionably at her. Not that Phryne didn't use to sort out her scuffles, but this was different, this was a grievous abuse.

"He's in hospital. Nasty leg wound. With a police guard.", Phryne explained.  
"And his reason for laying even a _finger_ on you in the first place was...

"I took a beating, what more is there to say?" she replied distantly.

"There's a hell of a lot to be said. Why, might be a justified question?"

Phryne made that face she did when she didn't want to answer a question.

Mac could see her almost closing her mind to her, her face getting all detached. She couldn't get chafed with her, she didn't have the heart, whatever reckless thing she had done to get to the criminal it was dreadful that she had been so mishandled for it.

"Did you break into his place or caught him red-handed?

"Something like that."

"Phryne...," Mac sighed impatiently.

"I was incognito and then he got onto me, which made him fly into a rage, that's it", she replied indifferently.

Mac looked into her quiet green eyes, clearly bent on saying no more.

"You can tell me everything when you've recovered, then." Mac replied in a low voice. "As long as you don't deny for yourself what he's done to you...you know it'll only be worse for yourself if you do." She knew Phryne was way too good at pushing unwanted things from her mind. She tried to catch her gaze. Phryne looked at her silently.

 _How very differently people coped with affliction, Mac thought, thinking of Phryne's frozen demeanour and the Inspector's quiet but deep concern for her._

A nurse called for Mac's assistance. Mac turned to Phryne.

"I'd rather watch over you all day. Yes, that's what I'll do."

"No, go, end your shift, you need to sleep." Phryne insisted. Mac did look far from convinced.

"I'll probably be asleep all the time anyway", Phryne asserted. "Promise me you'll go home to your flat. _She was right, her medical condition wasn't acute now that the bleeding was beginning to heal, there was nothing more she could do for her than to make sure she got rest._

Mac nodded absent-mindedly. "I'll see you later", she replied, pressing her hand.

 **Phryne's house,** ** _The Esplanade, St Kilda_**

"Did the man leave or drop anything when he was here?" Jack asked him.

"Not that I've seen, sir." Mr. Butler answered honestly.

"You've already cleaned up in all the rooms...?"

"Only the dining-room where they were having dinner. She wouldn't let me clean her own room."

"I see...". Jack looked at the hatstand. "He didn't forget his coat or..." _Why would he have, it was a pointless question._

"Oh", Mr. Butler exclaimed and disappeared into the servants' quarters. He came back with a short black coat.

"He did leave this", he said, handing it to Jack.

He had forgotten that he had put away the coat since Miss Fisher had seemed so unsettled by it when she caught sight of it coming down stairs Saturday morning. The night before he had seen her search it before they sat down for dinner, so he didn't think she would have any use for it anymore.

 _Strange, thought Jack, that he had left his coat, even if the night had been warm._ There was hardly anything in it, not even a dressmaker's mark or any recent repairs he could trace to at a tailor. Just a creased handkerchief and a grey matchbox with some kind of striped bird on it.

"Do you recognize this?" He held out the matchbox to Mr. Butler.

"I'm afraid not, sir _." It could be from some establishment, a club or a factory..._ _but what kind of place would have a bird as a symbol?_

"Could I have a look around?", Jack asked him. He nodded and opened the doors to the parlour and the dining room for him. Jack went meticulously through the rooms but found nothing of interest. Mr Butler was very obliging; he even opened her bedroom for him, though they reached a tacit understanding to keep this from Miss Fisher.

Her room it looked surprisingly tidy and normal, as if nothing out of order had occurred there...

Her bed was made up and the sheets were only slightly wrinkled. He could see hair from her on her pillow, but no dark hairs from a man anywhere in the bed. He searched the floor and her dressing table, finding no business card or a letters of interest, no fallen off cuff links or shirt buttons.

Her golden pistol was in the drawer in her bedside table, unloaded, and the bedside lamp was broken. When he went over the carpet more closely he found a diamond earring under the bedpost and when he picked it up his eyes fell on the bed frame. There was dried blood — her blood. Had she washed off the rest of it? There were no blood stains on the carpet. He tried not to picture her in the room, being knocked about, wailing as the man's fists hit her... He rubbed his temples to make the images disappear. He should go and see her at the hospital instead.

.

He looked through her calendar one more time, it was surprisingly empty. No cryptic mentions of any secret meetings or old admirers, no unexplained initials. She had mostly been seeing female acquaintances or frequenting all her committees and societies. She didn't use it as a journal, didn't write any comments or thoughts in it, only that she shouldn't forget to buy things for Jane or Dot, or borrow books Mac or Jane would like.

He only noticed one thing he hadn't seen before; his name suddenly popped up at a page. _Jack's birthday_ , she had written. How could she know that? He hadn't told her. She had underlined the date and written _Taurus_ beside it.

He left the room as he had found it so she wouldn't notice he'd been there.

"Did you find anything that could help you identify him?", Mr. Butler asked quietly.

"No." Jack shook his head and took out the matchbox.

"Finding out where this is from might help", he said without conviction. He looked at it again...a striped brown, squatty bird.

Jack took his hat and reached for the door.

"You don't know what kind of bird it is?"; he asked without really knowing why.

"Mr B looked at the symbol on the matchbox in his hand and opened the door for him.

"No, not really, Inspector. But I hope you find him," he said gravely.

"Thank you."

Mr. Butler wrinkled his forehead and pointed at Jack's hand.

"Looks a bit like a quail, possibly."

"A quail." Jack repeated.

"Yes sir", but the Inspector was already out the door.

It did look a bit like a quail. He drove past Quale's gymnasium on his way back to the station. There it was, a grey sign with a squatty quail on it. Why hadn't he recognized? A man with a connection to Quale's gymnasium. It couldn't be...It was too much of a coincidence.

No...no! Let it not be him, let it be anyone but him! He hastened back to the station, walked right passed Collins to the office and searched through his desk for the right file. His head was in an uproar already though it wasn't confirmed yet, he couldn't find the file!

"Where's the report from the men on guard that night?!" he asked Collins hurriedly without looking at him, continuing to search through the piles of paper.

The Inspector's harsh voice surprised him, and he hastened into him, beginning to search through the piles too.

"Hear, sir", Collins replied anxiously, sensing something was terribly wrong.

Jack snatched the file from him and opened it. _Don't let it be Derrington, don't let it be him_ …he skimmed through the report of Friday night. It said the men had followed Derrington from the gymnasium to the lady friend's place. He read the address: _221 The Esplanade, St Kilda_.

My God! She had invited him to her house!

"Where is he?!", Jack demanded to know.

"Sir?"

"Where is he now, is he still at the hospital?" he asked edgily."

Collins opened his mouth.

"Derrington!", Jack spelled out.

"Oh," Collins replied, finally following. "Uh, yes, he must be, I mean he is."

Jack rushed out of the station and into the car; Hugh barely managed to keep up and almost fell out of the passenger seat when the Inspector stepped on the gas before he had even closed the door. The tyres screeched as he drove off and the expression in Jack's face was ferociously dark, making Hugh doubt he really knew him. He had never seen him in this state.

"What has happened?" Collins asked alarmed.

He only responded by driving even faster. _It was Derrington! That's why she'd been so adamant about not revealing the identity of her abuser, that's why she had told him absolutely nothing, not even_ _why_ _he had hit her! Why hadn't he put two and two together, Derrington being shot that night and Phryne turning up the next day with a smashed up face, doing her best to conceal everything?_

 _It was a miracle that he hadn't found out until now, if only Collins had read the report instead of just glancing at it, if only Mr Butler had mentioned her abuser had been driven away in an ambulance...If only he himself hadn't thrown away Derrington's complaint about his lady friend..._

Jack jammed on the brakes in front of The Alfred Hospital and rushed through to the matron's office.

"Derrington, leg wound, the one with police guard?" He sounded curt and insolent, making the matron frown disapprovingly at his ill-mannered behaviour. He showed her his badge so it would speed up the process but she was still frustratingly slow.

"Next floor, first room to the left", she replied surly.

Jack dashed up the stairs and Collins followed him, uneasy about what exactly his superior was planning to do. The officer on guard was standing outside in the corridor, guarding Derrington's door. Jack burst into the room with Hugh behind him. Derrington was leaning heavily on a pair crutches and looked up at them through a black eye, trying to take a step without the crutches but failing miserably. Jack felt the anger consume him completely when he got his eyes on him; he went straight up to him and with all his might struck him down with one blow!

"Sir!", Hugh exclaimed in blank dismay and got in between him and Derrington, lying knocked out on the floor, afraid he would batter him into pieces.

"Sir, you can't..."

"Handcuff him, constable", he cut off breathily, glowing at the brute unconscious on the floor.

"For what?" Hugh dared to ask, although he did as he was ordered. He had never seen the Inspector this angry, this impulsive.

The officer on guard ran in together with a nurse as Jack began dragging Derrington out of the room. The nurse was petrified; her eyes went from Jack to Hugh and stopped at Derrington's black eye and bruised throat, which Phryne, not Jack, had given him.

"We had to arrest your patient", Hugh explained to her, still not sure for what, and afraid his superior had really lost his mind.

Jack got Derrington out of the door but then the nurse recovered her composure and tried to stop him.

"You can just come in here and assault a patient!" she exclaimed. _Assault!? How_ _dared_ _they use that word after what Derrington had done to her? If_ _he'd_ _been assaulted then what had Phryne been?!_

"You can't take him away, he can't walk, he needs care" she stuttered pointing to the large bandage around Derrington's thigh.

Jack turned his flashing eyes towards her and replied in a raucous voice. "This man is a perpetrator of a grievous woman battering." Collins gasped. _Did the Inspector mean Miss Fisher? He did!_

Hugh went to his side, taking Derrington's other arm and together they hauled him out into the empty corridor and out of the hospital, with the help of the other constable.

Jack kept looking at Derrington's his brawny arms, his detestable fists that had hit Phryne again and again with frightful impact. And how he must have kicked her, until she bled inside...Such a man, he did _not_ deserve to walk this earth.

Collins interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir, why don't we take care of him and you can...return to the station", he suggested with caution, dreading the look in the Inspector's eyes, what he would do when Derrington gained consciousness.

Jack agreed, thinking it was best not to be in the same room with him when all he wanted was to see him dead.

"Put him away somewhere," he replied darkly. "Anywhere...isolate him awaiting trial."

Collins put him in the backseat of the other officer's motorcar.

"Get me the names of the men shadowing him that night", Jack requested.

"What will you do to them?" Collins asked hesitantly, thinking violence wouldn't solve anything.

"Just get me the names!"

 _He had to know exactly what had happened, how it had happened...he didn't trust her to tell him everything. He had to speak with them. How could they not have heard, or seen Derrington beaten her?! And made anything to stop it? Or inquired after her well-being after she'd shot him?_

 _But before he talked to them he had to see her._

Collins took out his notebook, flicked through it and exchanged a few words with the constable.

"The men on duty on Friday night are probably in the boxing ring, sir."

 _Why had she got in contact with Derrington,_ _why_ _? There was absolutely_ _no_ _explanation he could think of. Why would she do that? And what on earth could have induced him to treat her thus?! Probably nothing, he was vicious in himself._

 _He had to see her, to hear her explain._

 _She had been right in one thing though, that finding out it was Derrington was worse than not knowing the identity of her abuser...in all other cases what you imagined was usually worse than the reality of it, but on this occasion...how he wished it had been anyone else._

The visiting hours hadn't commenced when Jack arrived at the Women's Hospital, so he got hold of Dr. MacMillan who was just on her way out.

"She is doing well; both her body and mind are healing."

"I need to speak with her", he said promptly, as if he didn't really take in her words.

"She is sleeping", Mac said.

He looked like he was in a rush and like he expected to get his will. He actually looked like he was about to insist on seeing her.

"What can be more important than she getting rest?" she asked him rhetorically.

He paused, annoyed. He didn't want to disrupt her rest... But he had to confront her...

He deliberated it grudgingly...Alright then, he could talk to the officer's on night watch first.

"You knew who he was, you knew it was him, didn't you?" he asked her bluntly.

She didn't appear taken aback; she just looked at him steadily with her ice-blue eyes.

"I suspected it", she admitted. She could see hurt and accusation in his eyes.

"She asked me not to tell you", she added quietly. "I couldn't deny her that, looking all black and blue, begging me not to divulge anything."

She could see he was upset that Phryne hadn't told him, she would have been too, but she also understood why Phryne had chosen not to; he looked like he could do something rash and thoughtless; it was probably for the best that he couldn't see her right now.

"Don't be too harsh with her", she said, "when you do speak with her. She gets on my nerves too, but I'm sure she never wanted to upset you."

"I don't know what she was thinking, she could have got herself killed!" he spat out, turned on his heel and walked away from her.

Mac wasn't surprised at his slight outburst; Phryne didn't seem to understand that all this hush-hush only tormented him more. She watched him disappear down the corridor to the stairwell.

... / ...

 _ **At the Police Sports Grounds**_

The boxing ring in the hall was empty but Jack could hear noisy laughter from the changing-rooms. He stepped into the confined shower rooms reeking of sweat and mildew and went to the lockers were the men had just get out their towels to shower. They became silent at the mere sight of him. They knew of him, the stiff serious inspector always working long days, not tolerating slack behaviour or negligence of duty among his subordinates.

"It's about your shift last Friday. You were shadowing Derrington all night. What happened?" Jack said without further ado.

"We've already written a report, sir", a short constable answered him haughtily.  
"I want you to tell me everything, in detail", he requested dryly. The men looked at each other and the short one sighed and got talking.

"It was a long day; Derrington didn't go anywhere dodgy or see anyone, except for that Quale fellow at the gymnasium."And then this woman came by…

"She was a juicy bit", another officer interrupted with a greedy sneer.

"Yes she had this outrageously alluring dress; we were surprised he wasn't running his hands over her by the time he got to her house.

"He was, didn't you see, he was pawing her already on the doorstep.

"No I didn't!" the constable replied excitingly. "Well she was asking for it, dressed like that." Jack bit his tongue to refrain from berating them for their irreverence.

"I wouldn't mind getting a piece of her myself, if you know what I'm saying" the short one told his mates.

"Nah, she's just a fickle flapper", someone replied.

Jack tried to tune out their words but they were too vexing, too much like the images replaying in his mind of her and Derrington. But he had to know exactly what had happened between them, what they had been doing. He didn't know what he'd thought; he thought they would be able to tell him everything. But that could only she do.

"And then what happened", he asked tensely.

"They had dinner at her place, and then the lights went out downstairs and a room on the third floor was dimly lit." _The bedroom, Jack thought disillusioned. He could see Derrington before him, pinning her to the wall, groping and battering her callously._

He cleared his throat. "You didn't hear anything?"

The men looked at each other with disbelief. The Inspector couldn't mean…? Because he seemed almost chaste.

"We were in the police vehicle, sir…"

"Or see anything?". _What useless police men!, Jack thought._

"Not until the gunshot. Someone turned on the light and we could see him lying on the bed with blood all around him."

"And then you still did nothing?" Jack said accusingly. _They could have prevented it, they could have saved her._

"She was handling it as far as we could tell", they sniggered. "She shot him in the leg, you know, though I don't know how she got her hands on a gun."

"But you didn't go inside?"

"No, the ambulance came quickly and took him away, so we followed him to the hospital", he concluded indifferently.

"So you didn't make sure the lady was alright?" Jack said with dark eyes.

"We had instructions not to let Derrington out of our sight…"

"You have a duty to protect civilians, before anything else!", Jack cut in harshly.

"Yes we know but she was…

"Therefore I will issue an official reprimand" he concluded coldly.

"No please, sir, you cannot do that, we were only following orders… The other constables hailed him with protests but he just went out of the changing-rooms and out of the hall while their voices faded behind him.

... / ...

 ** _The Women's Hospital_**

Phryne had been a good patient, she had slept most of the time and when not she'd been lying down, drinking a lot of water, not complaining of the throbbing sensation in her muscles. But now she was getting restless...and bored. She had already browsed through the limited hospital library and badly wanted to be doing something useful.

She queued up for the ward telephone the patients were allowed to use, doubting Jack and Hugh would let her help them but thinking she at least could hear what they were working on.

Phryne would like to hear his voice again, remembering how affectionately he had said her name last night, but it was Hugh who answered the telephone.

"I can't speak with you, miss, I have work to do", Hugh said abruptly, fearing the Inspector would get back from the sports grounds at any moment.

"Don't be so duteous, Hugh, tell me what you've been up to", she asked him cheerfully.

He hesitated slightly and took a large breath. He should tell Miss Fisher before he did.

"The Inspector has arrested Derrington."

"Really?!" She didn't know if she was mostly delightfully stunned or simply impressed. "On what charges?" _Pray say murder or abduction at least._

"Battery and assault, miss." _What, no! No! Jack knew… She wanted to smack her face!_

"Where is the Inspector?" she asked, as Collins could hear him in the door.

"I-I…don't think he's quite himself, miss." _Hugh sounded worried, the poor lamb. What did he mean; could Derrington have hurt him when he arrested him? Now Phryne got worried too._

Hugh glanced stealthily at his superior…he still didn't seem to have calmed down.

Jack frowned and looked at the telephone in Collins hand.

"Who are you talking to?" Phryne could hear his rasping voice on the other end.

Hugh opened his mouth but didn't utter a sound but Jack seemed to guess it.

His face darkened and he went straight back out the door, and a moment later Hugh could hear his engine roar.

"Hugh?", Phryne exclaimed, since his silence was making her apprehensive.

"I think he's on his way to you", he said to warn her.

.. / ...

It had been very quiet on the ward all morning, most of the patients had settled, and the only nurse went out to the store room to get some fresh linen, when Jack banged the swing door open. His otherwise neatly combed thick hair was falling into his forehead in waves. Phryne was relieved to see that he wasn't injured, she'd forgotten for a moment that Derrington barely could walk, but she'd still been worried that he might have hurt him. But she could see why Collins had thought he wasn't alright.

She looked like she was expecting him, propped up against the pillows behind her back, looking remarkably perky, well-rested even.

He stopped by her footboard, seeing her made him lose what little was left of his composure. "How could you?!" His voice felt like a rap to her face.

All his worry and concern compressed into these few days, which she had tried to mitigate, poured out of him in the form of desperate anger over her foolish choice to meet up with Derrington, resulting in his abhorrent treatment of her.

"You invited him to your home!" She was just about to affirm it when he cut her off brusquely.

"Don't deny it, I know you did."

"I don't", she said. "But you see now why I didn't tell you anything. I didn't want to lie to you but...

"Yet you've withholden the truth all this time", he replied angrily.

"Only because I knew how you would take it.

"Why? Why did you do it?!" he said exasperated. "I mean what did you think you could possibly to achieve?", he asked in disbelief.

She looked up into his agitated face.

"Getting information about the girls so we could at least locate them", she replied collectedly.

"By putting yourself in unnecessary danger?!"

"I couldn't know that he was a sadist, could I?", she countered. He hardly seemed to be listening to her.

"You let a murderer into your house!"

"We didn't know that by then… she disagreed, trying to mollify him.

"You already suspected him", Jack pointed out, speaking louder and louder.

"Yes but what was I to do", she protested fiercely, "there was nothing else we could do for the girls, I had to do something!"

"So you sought him out, how could you be so stupid!"

"I had it under control, I shot him…"

"Because he was battering you!", he shouted.

His voice cut right through her, stirred up unpleasant memories of the violence that had been inflicted on her...she tried to take deep breaths.

This was _not_ how she had imagined their next meeting would be after last night.

He stood so far away from her and didn't seem to have any inclination to step closer. She didn't dare get up, not sure she could, in case it would make her groan, and she didn't want him to close the distance between them just because she was in pain.

She tried to calm down the both of them.

"I know my plan wasn't exactly well-thought out", she admitted.

"It was _reckless!_ Foolish!"

"I agree I took a risk...

"You didn't take any precautions whatsoever, didn't think it through for a second!", he yelled at her.

"Please Jack, if you would just listen…"

"Did you really think you would be able coax anything out of him?"

Now Phryne was getting irritated.

"We didn't even know where the girls were coming from, only that they were prostitutes and he sold them on, we needed him to talk..." she said.

"And taking him upstairs was gonna solve that?".

Phryne was stumped. _How could he know that?_

"It was his idea, not mine, I never intended to", she replied firmly, trying to repress the memory of Derrington's disgusting advances, making her skin crawl.

Jack didn't know what to believe. But her eyes were very serious.

"I didn't encourage him in any way." _That was true, on the other hand she hadn't she needed to. She couldn't believe she was telling Jack this, but she had to explain so he wouldn't misunderstand._

He could see his words had hit her hard and his anger simmered down.

"But you let him…", he lowered his voice, struggling to find the words. …touch you."

That made Phryne flare up. "Do you think I liked it?! Do you think I liked having his hands all over me? _How could he think that?!_ " _"_ Do you?!" He didn't answer.

Phryne had mistaken him for being judgmental but he felt only sorry for what she had put herself through to make Derrington talk.

 _Did she have to tell him she'd_ _loathed_ _his pawing? What did he really think of her, that she was a floozy or something, that she was without integrity, letting her body out to anyone?_

"He was revolting!", she cried. "I only let him have his way with me so I could go on questioning him without him getting suspicious."

Jack was speechless. He didn't understand. Her plan seemed less and less like a plan the more she told him about it. What had she forced herself to endure, just for a stupid gallant notion to save the girls, a desperate wish to help them? It was completely self-sacrificing of her, self-destructive even...

Jack didn't see the nurse walking up to them. "Sir, I must ask you to leave, you're upsetting the young miss."

"He's not upsetting me!", Phryne protested irately and turned to Jack.

"You know what kind of man he is; you saw the way he looked at me when we questioned him! _She didn't have to remind him._

"Then why did you still let him?" he said painfully, unable to fathom it.

She looked away trying to block out the menacing images in her mind.

"Because I still hadn't gotten anything out of him...and...he was getting threatening by then."

He saw them before him, Derrington pinning her to the bedroom wall…

"And then he…beat you?" His voice had gone very quiet.

Her detached expression confirmed it.

"Why?" he asked, stepping closer to her, trying to catch her eye.

"He realized I was with you…with the police," she corrected herself.

"How did he know?"

"I don't know…" she replied listlessly. _Perhaps he had spotted the men shadowing him and thought she'd set a trap for him._

 _Had he beaten her because she hadn't let him have his way with her in the bedroom?_

 _Then it struck him that that he might have forced himself on her. He quaked at the thought of it, writhed under the possibility. Oh no, please…let it not be true. He barely dared to look at her face, her small little beautiful face. Let it not be true… She looked so frail already…Please no._

 _He had to ask her…he couldn't ask her that._

The nurse kept tugging at his sleeve, and finally her voice broke through to him. "You're disturbing everyone on the ward, sir, you must leave."

"He's not", Phryne insisted a little too fiercely, trying to get to a more upright position.

"I've heard your bellowing all the way from the laundry", the nurse scolded him as a doctor the matron joined her.

 _He had to ask her, Jack thought devastated. How could he ask her that...?_

"Lie down and rest, Miss Fisher", the male doctor ordered her.

"He's not going to disturb anyone", Phryne averred in vain, as they all ignored her.

 _Why wasn't Jack fighting his cause?_

"We'll have no shouting on this ward", the matron cut in sternly and pulled Jack away from her bed together with the male doctor.

"Let him be", Phryne winced badly as she tried to get up and stop them, wondering why he didn't challenge them.

"Be quiet, Miss Fisher, you must rest!," the nurse said, pushing her down in her bed. Phryne didn't even catch a glimpse of his face before they had got him out of the ward. They weren't finished with each other, far from it, she wasn't sure she'd been able to make him understand...

The nurse was taking her blood pressure and pulse and looking very displeased with the figures. "That man has clearly agitated you, miss; you must try and relax now."

 _He is not "that man", she thought, he's Jack._

His loud voice was still ringing in her ears, and all the harsh words they had bawled at each other... How did they come to this? It was like yesterday hadn't happened...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII – 8**

He couldn't take this, it was too much. First she pretending like nothing had happened, then trying to hide the rest of her beaten aching body, while quenching the pain, then still refusing to name her abuser, and then him finding out it was Derrington. And now this! ...let he not have hurt her in any other way. Let not this last thing be true...

My god, he shouldn't have yelled at her.

He tried to convince himself that it may not be true, and that it was Quale and not Derrington who had a history of sexual abuse, but it did not help much, he still dreaded it. Shouldn't he have been able to tell, just by looking at her, if that was the case?...but no, she was too frozen, too detached each time he tried to bring up the abuse.

He needed a drink to calm himself but thought it best to refrain from it in case they would allow him to see her at the hospital, though it was highly unlikely.

It was so unexpected that she, of all women, would be the victim of a woman battering... But he sometimes wondered if her father had belted her...because of the way she spoke about him, with clear distaste, and the little stories about him locking her in a cupboard and things like that. Even if she had told it casually it gave him a cold shiver down his back it hadn't given him at the time.

And he had been quite sure at the time, and now he was certain, that René Dubois _had_ beaten her. He was just that kind of man, and she had been so apprehensive when they'd been waiting for him at the French café. It was hard to imagine her in an abusive relationship, but she had been very young at the time, and it couldn't have been more than ten years after the loss of her sister, if it was just after the war...still, she must have been very lost... they all were, in the aftermath of all the killing. Perhaps that was why she had been so frail that she had stayed with Dubois at all. Her mourning seemed to result in her acting self-destructive, just like now.

Her determination to cope with it all by her own, not to complain for a second was so...

He kept thinking that if it had been anyone else, if it would have been Rosie, she would have felt an ounce of pity towards herself and would, without doubt, have let herself be comforted without the slightest resistance. But this was Phryne. Not until she writhed in pain had she accepted his consolation – no not even then.. …only when she was at her very lowest, when she was in tatters over Janey, had she sought his comfort.

He must have been walking for hours; the sun had fallen considerably and would soon disappear behind the horizon. He kept wandering the streets, not wanting to go home. It felt like a light-year ago she had walked by his side on their way home from the theatre... when she had looked truly radiant, been in so high spirits, seemed so happy...but of course had been on hydrocodone.He passed by the hospital again, but the windows of the ward were facing the back and the park surrounded by high stone walls. There she lay, alone on the soon to be dark ward, without Dot and Jane knowing anything of her condition, and with Mac not being on call. He had told himself to help her mend the gash that had reopened with Janey's burial, and how had yelling at her helped?

He didn't understand how it came to this. If ever she would be hurt like this, he had believed it would have brought them closer to each other if anything, not further apart...

It felt like their row, and his uncertainty over what Derrington had done to her in the bedroom, had ripped the gulf between them wide open...the gulf that had almost vanished when he'd held her in his arms.

But no, last night at the hospital was just an exception, because of her nightmare and her pain….it was just that, nothing else…she had needed comfort and he had happened to be there, that was all.

... / ...

 _ **The Women's Hospital**_

Phryne couldn't rest although the doctors urged her to, she was too unsettled to after Jack had been banned from the hospital, and neither could she get hold of Mac to ask her to lift the ban for him. He had never seen him that angry, and not with her... No matter how loud his voice got, though, he never felt threatening.

It was almost worse, his anger brimming with frustration and concern rather than being solely frightening, because then she could have shut it out...now she couldn't help feeling affected by it, by him, and the hurt she had caused him.

How badly she had explained everything... She hadn't even been able to calm him down, getting riled up herself, despite having told herself beforehand to keep it together; and had of course failed to steer the conversation or making him see.

She tried to return to what had passed between them last night, instead of dwelling on their quarrel, only to realize how wrong she'd been. She'd thought too highly of it; she'd been pretty shattered then and he was too good, too considerate not to comfort her, to comfort anyone in such a state... he would undoubtedly have done so to any woman regardless. It hadn't been anything special, although it may have felt that way. He was so compassionate and sincere, that it was hard to tell if his actions were simply those of a close friend or something else; but she _had_ been too touched by it, thought too much of it.

When she eventually fell asleep, late in the afternoon, she slept until midday.

... / ...

 _ **Tuesday**_

When Jack returned to the hospital for the second time in the morning, they still didn't let him see her or even give her a message. He had been out walking all night that he'd forgotten the visiting hours did not commence until now, not that he was allowed inside anyway. He managed to get hold of MacMillan this time, who had been working nights again, but she couldn't give him access to the ward since she hadn't been in charge yesterday. And he was told Phryne was sleeping so soundly that he didn't want to wake her up, disturb her, only to tell her what a fool he'd been shouting at her like that.

... / ...

 _ **The hospital, at noon**_

The air was different; she thought she was outside for a moment before opening her eyes and seeing the endless row of the other patients' beds. But the air in the ward _did_ feel unnaturally fresh...not stuffed or smelling of clean sheets and iodine any longer. It almost felt like she was in a garden, judging by her senses. The sensation seemed to emanate from beside her. She turned her head to the side and looked to the bedside table. A white and lilac bouquet. The blonde nurse who was fiddling around her bed looked from the flowers to her.

"There's not even a card", she grinned at Phryne, "but perhaps you know who it's from." When Phryne didn't answer so she continued her round of the ward.

She had to get up. She forced her arms to pull her upright and put her feet on the ice-cold floor and staggered to the little table. There was an armful of hyacinths and Lisianthus in the wide vase, along with an abundance of pearly peonies. Their scent was aromatic , but it was the heart-felt gesture that filled her whole being...the flowers spoke of sincere forgiveness and sorrow, of serenity and healing...

 _He didn't have to... he had nothing to apologize for._

There was something sallowish stuck between the stems deep down in the vase. She fished it out…just a small plain card.

 _For you_

She closed her eyes and it was as if she could feel his arms around her again, holding her closer than ever before.

 _... / ..._

She tried to get to the ward telephone but the nurses wouldn't let her, insisting she must lie down. He must call him; tell him there was nothing to forgive. When she finally managed to call the station he wasn't there, not for several hours, she called him repeatedly without success. She telephoned Hugh in Werribee to get his home number too but he wasn't answering there either...he must be out. God, she had messed up everything, and now she couldn't even get hold of him.

 _... / ..._

 _ **Later that day**_

When they eventually let him in in the afternoon, after lots of shilly-shallying, she wasn't there.

"She's been discharged", the matron informed him from behind her desk.

"Discharged", he repeated perplexed.

"Yes, " , the matron snorted, "the young lady thought she had the right to discharge herself."

"And you let her?"

"We tried to persuade her but this is not a prison, Inspector."

 _ **Phryne's place**_

It felt immensely good to be out of the hospital at last and not being supervised by anyone. It was fortunate that Jane had summer holidays and wanted to stay at Werribee, and that Mr Butler had agreed to go there, so that she could be alone in the house. She should telephone Jane before she hit the bottle, though.

She had looked in at the station on her way home but he hadn't been there..He must be out, taking care of a disturbance or something.

Mac came by a few hours later, when she'd been sleeping, but wasn't too cross with her. She did think it was unnecessary of her to send away Mr B, but there it was. After she left she took a long bath and put on some proper clothes although she would be lying down all day. She did feel slightly better in her black slacks and sleeveless periwinkle blouse, after the warm bath had taken away some of the stiffness in her body, but it could just as well be the scotch speaking.

 _ **Late afternoon**_

The doorbell rang. Phryne put down her book and went out of the parlour and opened the front door. Jack was standing on the porch with his hat in his hand.

 _She looked so affable and open, like it was him she'd been waiting for and no one else, that it caught him off guard for a bit._

"I telephoned you but I couldn't get hold of you", she excused herself.

"They didn't let me in at the hospital, and when they did they said you'd gone home", he replied in a low voice. She nodded and stepped aside to let him in, but he didn't cross the threshold, looking like he was only passing by and had no intention whatsoever to step inside. He looked into her eyes.

" I shouldn't have y..."

"There's no need to say anything, Jack."

"Yes there is."

"No", she protested gently. "Please don't feel you have..."

"I need to", he cut in.

"No, you don't", she said in earnest, her sad eyes intent on him. She took a step towards him. "Jack, I am sorry I hurt you... It was the least I wanted, I was doing everything to avoid it…but I still spoiled everything." Her voice was very deep. "It wasn't fair to you."

His still hadn't moved an inch and his face was so serious.

"It was wrong of me to shout at you like that", he said quietly. His eyes fell on her bare arms tinged in blue.

"No, of course it frustrated you, me not divulging anything"; Phryne disagreed, "even when you asked me outright."It was hard to read his face, what he must be thinking. She opened the door even wider but he was still standing outside.

"Come inside", she suggested as warmly as she could, without pressing him. His almost frozen face looked at the door and then her. She really did look like she wanted him to come in. He finally stepped into the hallway. She took his coat and his hat from his hand before he could change his mind and showed him into the parlour. He watched her put on a black bolero to cover her arms and pour them two large drinks. He knocked his back in a quaff so she poured him another, sensing he was not himself.

His brow furrowed when he looked at the glass in her hand.

"Substitute for morphine" she explained, putting back the decanter on the shelf.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" he asked, relieved she wasn't mixing it with pain relief.

"No, I feel much better, and this helps", she said, taking another sip of the whiskey. "And I have been lying down _all_ day."

She was so unfeigned, finally abandoning all pretence and opening up to him, letting him in... He wasn't expecting that after trying to break through her detached veil for days now, and he was not ready for it...

"So they didn't gave you hydrocodone or anything to take home?", he asked her quietly.

"They cannot give me analgesics for another fortnight."

The furrow in his brow increased.

"More scotch for me" she said dryly and refilled her glass.

"Is that why you discharged yourself from hospital?" he said.

"Yes", she replied calmly. I can rest here just as well as on any ward."

"I'm surprised Dr. MacMillan let you. What did you bribe the nurses with?"

"I happen to be one of the hospital's most important fund-raisers, so they couldn't really hold me there against my will", she said with an arch smile. "And Mac had gotten off her outrageously long shift when I left."

"Yes I met her on her way out." His indifferent voice bewildered her. He seemed so reserved, keeping his distance, leaning on the mantelpiece; that it felt like she couldn't get across to him...it made her think he hadn't forgiven her...Not that she could think of any reason why he should.

When he'd been shouting at her in the ward he had been full of feeling at least... but now... now he was so restrained, so withdrawn...

"Are you hungry? You must be. Mr. B has left the larder well-stocked."

"It's a bit early for dinner", he replied, though he hadn't eaten for hours.

"I'll take out food for you if you would like some, there's no trouble", she said, taking him to the kitchen.

"Mr. Butler isn't here?" he asked, while she took out dish after dish from the larder as he looked quite famished.

"He has gone to Werribee. I didn't want Jane and Dot to be alone with Aunt P, even if Hugh joins them every evening."

"Collins has got a few days off so they'll be well looked after."

"Oh how nice, good. Dot will be delighted." She was very pleased to hear that.

"And who's to look after you?" he asked in a subdued voice.

She just gave him a lingering smile and put a heavy tray in his hands.

"We want tomatoes too, don't we" she said half-loud and opened the larder again.

 _She couldn't have sent away everyone, could she?_

"And Mr. Yates and Mr. Johnson...?" he asked, convinced they were just out and about.

"They're helping out at the docks for a couple of days. Cheese?"

 _So she_ was _all alone in the house...it took him by surprise. He looked up into her sunny face. Her sending everyone away, even Mr. Butler, made him think once more that she didn't want any man in her house as company because Derrington really had...her..._

 _He had to ask her._

They sat down on each side of the large oak table in the dining room.

 _Was it here she had sat with Derrington? Had he been sitting opposite to her? Or beside her, running his hands all over her..._

"Did you say you wanted cheese?" she asked sweetly.

 _Should he ask her now? How should he pose the question..._

She asked him a lot of questions about the case, if there had been any developments, and what their plans for Friday was, but she hadn't missed out on anything while on the ward, and he hadn't been on one shift since he watched by her that night on the hospital, for that matter.

He was still very taciturn, she didn't manage to wheedle the smallest little hint of a smile out of him though she was being very subtle and not trying to impel him...but nothing she did or said softened his mood. He simply wasn't completely in the present. There were long intervals of silence during their meal so she decided to wait him out if he at all would feel the wish to tell her what was on his mind. She realized she hadn't given him much chance to come to terms with her beating, that maybe it had to do with that and not that he hadn't forgiven her.

Jack's eyes fell on her grazed knuckles, which made him think of Derrington's bruised throat and shiner. She had nearly finished eating and looked up at him and noticed his eyes were riveted on her hands, so she put away her fork and knife. _What was he thinking of?_ Her movement made him finally look up and meet her worried gaze instead.

"You tried to defend yourself...", he said. His question sprung on her, but for once didn't arouse harrowing images her mind.

"Yes, I did." _She had probably made it worse by doing that, enraged him further._

"And your wrists…?" She looked steadily into his eyes. "Your wrists Phryne? You said he didn't tie you up but..."

"He grabbed them when I drew the gun _." She wondered why he kept returning to it when it seemed to lacerate him. He should try and forget it, like she did. But maybe this was how he processed it._

"And that was all that happened? He beat you and then you shot him?"

"Yes". _She wasn't exactly sure what he meant._ "He didn't kick me or anything, if that's what you mean. It was just fists", she said calmly.

"Just fists" he mumbled dispiritedly and knit his brows unwittingly.

 _Just fists…._ _He managed to smash her up pretty good all the same._

Jack had become very quiet...his uneasiness was nearly palpable. She tried to catch his gaze and leaned forward over the table and reached for his hand to comfort him, but he withdrew it immediately and leaned away from her with downcast eyes. It confounded her; he had never recoiled from her attempts to console him before. _If she couldn't get through to him when she was the source of his distress what could...?_

 _He had held her, caressed her, for less than 40 hours ago... Did that mean nothing? Had it meant nothing to him?_

 _She didn't see how that would ever happen again..._

 _What has that man done to us, she thought, leaning back on her chair. There was no rift like this between them before... Whatever's holding us together he has severed; his actions, the events of that night and its outcome has nearly torn us apart._ She looked up into Jack's beautiful face lost in thought. _And I could have forestalled it, I could have kept it from you, I should have, but failed, she thought._

She lowered her voice.

"Jack?.." He looked down on their empty plates.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He remained silent for another moment...evidently considering whether to speak his mind or not... She waited patiently for him.

He glanced at her.

"So he didn't…did he hurt you…in any other way?" he asked cautiously, finding it hard to utter the words. He couldn't meet her eye no longer, but felt her eyes resting on him. It was difficult to read the expression in his tense face. _Was he really asking her if Derrington had…?_

"No…" He looked up at her. "No, Jack", she said with emphasis.

He still looked miserable. _Yes, that was what he was asking._

"I swear to you" she said candidly. He finally seemed to relax a bit. _Had he really thought that?...whatever had made him think that?_

"I wouldn't let him do that...", she said, trailing off, deciding she had already said too much.

"I had to ask..." he said apologetically while she averted her eyes. She gave him a nod looking like it meant he had all the right to ask, and rose from the table. She began to clear the table by putting the glasses and china back on the trays. She could almost feel his reserved manners fade away as he helped her fill the trays, without glancing at him. When she did she saw that the open, warm Jack she knew had surfaced again. _So_ _that_ _had been the reason why he had been so withdrawn. She would never have guessed. She hoped this would be the last time they had to bring up the events of Friday night so that they now could begin to put them behind them for good. She was very glad it had eased his mind, though._

He followed her to the kitchen with the rest of the dishes.

 _Derrington hadn't raped her._ The relief was immense! The revelation imbued him to the core and made it strikingly easy to _breathe_ again, to think even. Now he could really face her, and wanting to, he sought her gaze, not wanting to let her out of his sight for a second. It wasn't really feasible since he had offered to wash the dishes so she could dry them, but it felt good that they were on the same page again. He now felt able to return her sincere smiles, although her spirits had been momentarily dampened by his question, but she still looked at ease and was so light-hearted.

They went into the parlour which had turned quite dim in the dusk of the evening. Phryne lit the floor lamps and the oil lamp on the sofa table while he ensconced himself in one of the yellow armchairs. Not until now did he notice the white and purple bouquet placed conspicuously on the front edge of the mantelpiece. He must have had his back towards it before or else he should have seen it.

Phryne wound up the gramophone which began playing some lazy jazz tunes and looked back at him. He was smiling at something. She took their empty tumblers and the decanter and put it on the little table between the armchairs and sat down. He was surprised that she wasn't that tipsy; she had in all probability had a few drinks before he came but she only seemed one sheet to the wind. Judging by her small volume her tolerance should be low but she was probably used to drinking on the other hand. She refilled their glasses after he'd given her a consenting look, but he was relieved to see that she only sipped at her own, which he took as a good sign that her injures were actually healing.

 _He looked tired, had he also been working nights? No, that was one of the constables' duties_ she remembered, _he never had to do that as a rule._

"So, what have you been doing today, exactly?" she asked.

 _What had he been doing? That he wondered too. It was easier to say what he hadn't done:_

 _he had barely been home, barely slept, stopped by at the apartment only out of necessity and gone back to the office at dawn again, only to doze off for an hour or two behind the desk before starting on his shift._

"Paperwork mostly, nothing more intriguing than that" he smiled at her, leaning back on the headrest with the glass in his hand.

"You shouldn't have to set aside so much time for that", she said, "and they really should pay you more, it's a bloody important job."

"Well, it's as it's always been...although the civil lawsuits have increased considerably", he added, "which entails more paperwork."

"By that you mean family disputes?"

"Yes. Both divorce disputes and reports of assault and adultery are getting more and more common."

"Is the law more favourable than it was ten years ago, is that the reason?"she asked, though she doubted it. The laws always seemed to be out of joint with the present times.

"Not really, but more women do report and witness nowadays, probably because it's more socially acceptable, though that doesn't necessarily mean they get any justice", he said looking at her shiner which was shifting in red and yellow.

"No, and there's still too many who daren't witness at all", she sighed. _She spoke about it like she wasn't one of these beaten women now, when she was._

"Do you think there is a certain kind of women who are drawn to violent men?" she asked him thoughtfully.

He raised his eyebrows. "In what way?"

"It seems like it's often very frail young women and girls who end up with these men.

"Possibly", he replied, thinking of all the cases of wife-beaters he had come across over the years. "Many of them seem to have very little self-worth or sense of self-preservation why they let the abuse go on without reporting it." She nodded in agreement. "Like the girls Derrington are selling on." She thought about the first girl being shot in the head by him.

"I'm glad though that we got to him before he hurt another girl...because I fear they would not have coped with any more abuse", she said gravely, "being so frail and having been forced into a life of prostitution at such a low age... and they don't deserve it"; she thought out loud, staring into space.

"And you do?" he said, shaking his head, not believing his ears. She was basically saying she was glad he had manhandled her and no one else. He could tell she really meant that, that she thought she deserved it.

 _She should mind what she was saying; it felt like he could read her too well and she couldn't help speaking her mind with him._ "I didn't mean..." she said, fumbling for words.

"You don't" he insisted. _No one does, and least of all you_. "You deserve happiness", he said quietly, both of them surprised at him speaking his mind.

 _Happiness... But I don't deserve you, you're too good...and I can't give you what you would want, what you deserve, she thought._

"Forget that I said that", she asked him. "I just meant we're lucky he didn't have the opportunity to cause any more damage, because then it would have been our fault for not stopping him."

"No, it would have been his fault", he disagreed calmly, once again relieved that she hadn't been more badly hurt.

He cleared his throat and caught sight of the book she had put away on the piano when he came. "Is it any good, the book your reading?"

She was pleased that he too thought they'd had enough of deep conversations this evening.

"It's a collection of poems actually, a new one from Robert Frost. Do you like him?"

"I do, very much" he smiled almost indiscernibly.

"Then please take it, I think you'll enjoy it", she said, handing him _West-Running Brook_.

"Thank you.

He opened it and looked through it. Phryne became aware of the music again after they had stopped talking and went up to the gramophone to wind it up.

"He really is quite good"; she could hear Jack mumble though she was standing with her back to him, which made her smile.

"Have you read _The Road Not Taken_?, she asked him brightly. "I am not sure what it means, the last stanza, but it's still...

"Wonderful", he filled in, looking up from the book. "And _Stepping by Woods on A Snowy Evening_."

"Oh yes!" she replied. "I still remember the first time I read it", she said musingly, "or heard it, I think. What an _atmosphere_ he conjures up..."

"Yes he does" he exclaimed. They smiled at each other in mutual understanding.

"I think you'll like the one on page 57 she said, leaning her arms on the back of the armchair. He dipped into the book and turned back a few pages.

The notes of _Albany Home_ reached her ears as he began to read.

"Oh, I love this one", she said looking at the gramophone and turning it up louder. "Do you mind?", she asked. He shook his head still in the book.

It was impossible not to dance to such music; the pace was too swinging despite of not being that fast. She moved past the divan and twirled around the armchair with stretched out arms, half-smiling. Jack looked up from the book amused but she didn't notice, she was too absorbed by the music filling her mind, being expressed through her movements. She looked so content and relaxed, as if oblivious to the world around her, like there was nothing but this here and now. He closed the book and put it beside his glass on the little table, and his eyes strayed to her. She kept dancing into the next song too, with half-shut ayes, moving slowly to the tarrying tune and getting closer to the grand piano for every step. She narrowly avoided the corner of the bookcase unknowingly but was nearing the piano again. She would crash into it and it would hit her straight on her bruises. He swiftly went up to her and caught her by the elbow. She opened her eyes, not having heard him get up from his seat. She smiled quietly, still looking so content. She was looking at him in a very unusual way, _like in the hospital,_ he thought...Like she was grateful that he was here.

He let go of her elbow but she put her hand in his and he didn't know why but he closed his hand around her wrist. It was so large, his hand compared to hers, that it enfolded both her hand and wrist. She thought he was staring at her blue marks again.

"See, they're gone now", she smiled gently, looking at long his long fingers covering her bruises.

"Stop belittling your injuries."

"Stop spoiling this moment, she replied drifting almost unnoticeably closer to him and took his arm and placed it around her back. Resting her own arm on his, she nodded to the gramophone which had just started playing another slow Billie Holliday song. He hadn't noticed the last one ending.

She started swaying to the melody to see if he would follow. It was not just any song; it was that melancholy one always making him sombre when hearing it...so soft and caring yet sad and beautiful in its simplicity. Her eyes were glowing, quietly intent on him. He slowly began leading her out to the soft tones of Billie's soothing voice, his hand on her shoulder blade supporting her. Phryne arched back somewhat to feel his hand on her back and suddenly her bruises didn't hurt anymore.

He led her well, it didn't even feel like he steered her, they just floated around in small circles on the floor. She relished his touch, feeling so secure in his arms while that fire she'd perceived before rekindled in her body. She felt his every move ignite a spark deep in her chest.

The dance was slow and close, very close...their hips touched, even their lower ribs, as was appropriate in a proper waltz, but not needed. It was lucky they were meant to look over each other's right shoulder though; he didn't glance at her once, not that it made her closeness any less vivid to him. He felt it through her soft hand in his, through her fingertips on his shoulder, when their thighs accidently brushed against each other when he stepped through her, and when she responded almost imperceptibly to his lead.

It was a small consolation, holding her again, even if was just a dance, and everything was allowed in a dance. But they moved as one, so lightly and smoothly to the drawn out notes of the music, it was as if this were meant to be...

He took one look at her and she smiled and shut her eyes...but he didn't think it was because she was tired or slightly intoxicated... could it be out of pleasure...out of mere delight? Because she looked so serene.

He had thought that their unison in the hospital, their embrace, had been an exception since she had been virtually distraught, but this proved him wrong...This was the same, this touch, this closeness, it proved him wrong. Even if it was just a dance it was...no, it was more than that.

When the song shifted to that sad minor bit, Jack unwittingly slowed down, as he filled with sadness, and suddenly their cheeks touched...they were dancing cheek to cheek, Phryne still with her eyes closed.

 _I'll always think of you that way_

 _I'll find you in the morning sun_

 _And when the night is new_

 _I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you_

They hardly danced now,moving slower and slower the longer the song proceeded...soon it would be nothing but an embrace.Despite Billie taking her time, caressing each word patiently; the end of the song drew near and reached its end far too soon. They had stopped moving completely now and were standing still,cheek to cheek, listening to surface noise of the gramophone needle on the record. This must be the last song, it would be no more. They heard the needle lift from the record.

Phryne kept her eyes closed, savouring every second...she could feel the air around them, between them, tingle with suspense. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her cheek to his cheek.

 _What now._

Phryne felt him releasing her. He gently let go of her hand and waist, and took a step away from her, careful not to meet her eye, while his expression contradicted his every move...but he backtracked nonetheless. If it had been just her and him and no one else in this world, nothing else; no other acquaintances or social conventions, no past and no future, then he would never have let go of her… He broke it off though it discorded with his every wish to remain near her.

 _Just like that the moment was broken._

She turned away from himand went to the gramophone to put away the record, incapable of denying that she felt disheartened. _Had she ruined everything now...by getting so close? Two more seconds and she would have kissed him, not matter what she'd told herself before about staying away._ She put back the record on the shelf and poured herself another glass. She looked back at him, standing behind the divan, with the decanter in her hand but he didn't nod, he didn't want another. _She hoped he wasn't thinking of a silly pretext to use so he could leave just because of this. It was still early evening._

Jack sat down on the divan to compose himself. He would get up and take his leave in a moment, he just had to... he hardly knew what. He glanced furtively at her out of the corner of his eye... she wastaking worryingly large swigs of the brandy. Her face had drained of all that emotion when he let go of her, but it had been the right thing to do...had it not?

She ran her fingers over the leather covers in the bookcase while she emptied her glass. _She may attract him but he wouldn't allow himself to be with her, she could see that now. What he wished for, what she believed he did, she could not give him; a family, marriage... and neither would she ask him to give up his dreams. And she would not change her conviction for any one, not even for him, and for that sake she wouldn't spoil his future._

 _If he would not take her, accept her as she was..._

 _In the end they were too different a people..._

The feeble lights from the lamps blazed into Jack eyes, making him want to disappear into a dark hole so they wouldn't feel so tense. He watched her rearrange the order of the books on the shelf for ages, then turning to him, opened her mouth, but changed her mind. _What is there to be said, he thought._ She opened her mouth again.

"I'll wrap up some food for you, if you'd like, to have for luncheon tomorrow. There's no chance I'll be able to eat everything myself."

He nodded when their eyes met briefly. "Thank you."

She disappeared into the kitchen, clearly not expecting him to follow her. When she returned he would leave, he decided, leaning back on the backrest of the divan while a dense fatigue filled both his body and mind. She was surely gone a very long time but it gave him more time to think and he didn't mind resting here meanwhile. What should he do, he couldn't go on like this. He started doubting himself again, his choices and actions. He should go home no matter what, though.

Phryne wrapped in almost a little of everything, not being deliberately slow but it took its time. She wasn't sure at all what he liked or preferred; she had forgotten to pay attention when they had dinner and now she didn't want to go out and ask him if he wanted the one thing or the other...so she wrapped up everything so that he could chose himself. She glanced across the hallway into the parlour. She couldn't see him but she could see that the oil lamp had died out and she heard the wind soughing sleepily in the trees. She wasn't tired yet though, despite being on her feet uncommonly lot these last hours, but she had probably had too much to drink. All this choosing, wrapping and packaging up took far much longer than if she'd been cold sober.

She placed the hamper under his coat in the vestibule and went into the parlour. He didn't look up at her. She didn't see his face clearly in the semi-darkness so she reached for the oil lamp to lighten it when she noticed his eyes were shut. _He wasn't...? Yes he was...sleeping. But she hadn't been gone that long had she? She probably had._ And now she remembered he had probably not slept anything when with her on the hospital...he had looked very tired tonight.

She was just about to shake him up gently and offer herself to drive him home when she changed her mind. He could just as well sleep on the divan, it was quiet wide and very long so his legs wouldn't stick out, and it _was_ very comfortable. And she really didn't have the heart to wake him up.

His head fell to his side so she took a cushion and put under it so he could slide into a recumbent position eventually. He was already sleeping very soundly. She lift up his legs and covered him in a quilt from the foot of the sofa...fortunately he didn't seem to notice anything.

She took one last look at him before she turned off the lights and drew the curtains and the velvet drapery.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX** **– last chapter** (for some time)

A calm felicity nested inside her. He was lying stretched out on the divan above her, breathing quietly with slow breaths, entirely oblivious of where he was. His face was sheer placidness, he looked so free from disquietude...he was getting a break and a chance to rest at last, making her think she'd been right not to wake him up last night. And she gladly confessed it was rather pleasant watching him sleep...he seemed to have slept soundly throughout the night...luckily she had woken up before him now in this brilliant, quiet hour of dawn where the sunbeams were waiting impatiently behind the drapery, delightfully relentlessly wanting to join in with the renewed ardour inside her of which he was the only reason. What did it matter if he never let her in; he would still be in her life, she would still be close to him and that would be far more than enough.

She got up from the mattress on the floor beside him. She _had_ considered going up to sleep in her bedroom last night but then he could have snuck away without her noticing during the night at any time because it was unseemly to sleep at a spinster's house...and besides, she wasn't sure she would have been able to get up the three flight of stairs since she had failed the four last attempts yesterday, before he came. There was something about walking upstairs and sitting up that apparently was too much for her abs to take, and she didn't want to be hospitalized again just because she'd been stupid enough to exert herself and the healing of the haemorrhage.

She headed for the terrace so he wouldn't hear her, walking swiftly through the rooms to the French door at the back of the house. She managed to get out on the paved patio before she retched her guts out over the ivy-covered trellis. She was accompanied by some early birds already in full blast, singing and chatting to each other and seeming exceedingly interested of the contents on the ground. How could they be so perky this early in the morning?

The day didn't seem as sultry as the last ones had; the air was quite fresh and there was fluffy clouds gliding peacefully over the morning sky. The milk cart was passing by her house as she threw up again over the magnolia. She made sure it was the very last attack before she headed back into the house.

Fortunately he hadn't woken. She tiptoed through the parlour out to the dining room and through to the kitchen and cracked an egg in a glass and made herself gulp it down. There was no question she had indulged too much yesterday but she had never felt better on the other hand. The stiffness had returned again as it always seemed to after a long night's sleep but it was worth it. She rinsed her mouth and went back to the parlour and lay down on the mattress after having drawn the curtains letting in the light. He was still sleeping soundly, his long face completely relaxed. She wondered if he still had nightmares from the war, like so many men had though they never spoke of it _. Had he slept alone all this time since he'd been estranged from his wife...? How awfully lonely for him... How could he stand it? He, being so full of feeling and compassion, always reaching out for others in their hour of need. He was really honourable in the true sense of the word, but it must mean he denied himself much which he deserved...his self-restraint and integrity was remarkable._

She lay on her side and put her cheek to the pillow looking at him before she closed her eyes. That sweet Billie Holiday song was stuck in her head, along with the feeling of his hand on her back and his cheek close to hers...

She dozed off.

... / ...

Jack woke up with the sun flickering over his eye lids, feeling thoroughly rested. His bed felt different though, and the air...smelling of...hyacinths? He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes. _Phryne._ He looked straight into her small face, deep in sleep. He smiled...how very lovely...he'd never thought _she_ would be the first thing he set eyes on in the morning.

She he was lying tousle-headed on a mattress on the carpet with her bare arm stretched out towards him... he realized he was lying on the divan. Her mouth was slightly open...the cracks in her lips had healed. She looked just as rested as he felt. He must have fallen asleep here yesterday and she hadn't woken him, why on earth hadn't she? And why had she chosen to sleep on the floor? He shook his head. She was a mystery.

It was odd that he hadn't woken up until now...well not really, he'd hardly gotten any sleep these last three days when he thought of it. He stretched his legs still looking at her, sat up and put on his shoes which she must have unlaced for him last night. His eyes fell on a clean white shirt and a towel on the back of the divan, clearly intended for him.

He went to the guest bathroom to splash his face but decided he just as well could take a quick shower before leaving; he thought she was usually more of a light sleeper but she had looked like she could sleep for hours and was most likely still sleeping off her drinks. And she didn't seem to think anything he did was unseemly. Sometimes it would have been better if she had thought so...then she wouldn't have let him stay the night like this for one thing.

It felt rude, however, to leave the house without taking his leave and waking her up to thank her but there was no going back after their dance yesterday exactly; now he had really entangled himself by stepping over the line for good.

When he got out of the bathroom he found the parlour empty...he walked to the vestibule as he heard muffled frizzling sounds from the kitchen and crossed the dining room. She was scrambling eggs and roasting toast at the black stove in her silvery grey nightgown with her back to him. He leaned on the doorframe between the dining room and the kitchen feeling utterly relaxed and refreshed after a good night's sleep, and being quite pleased, after all, that he had woken up in the same room as her. He watched her empty the eggs in the cast iron pan onto a plate and pour the water from the kettle in the teapot. She was humming something... her cheeks had regained their colour...she was looking less and less pale every day. She put the toasts on the tray on the table and turned to the larder for the jam when she caught sight of him at the doorpost, giving him a bright morning smile.

"Jack." He returned it. She took a spoon for the jam without looking away from him and put it on the tray. She could see he was wearing the shirt that she had put out for him. Good.

"I won't say sorry for letting you sleep because you needed it, but I'll tell your chief it was my fault you'll be terribly late for you shift."

"I'm not sure he'd understand", Jack smiled.

"I'll make him understand" she said positively. I'll come up with some _perfectly_ reasonable excuse to why you fell asleep on my divan."

"And what would that be?" he asked almost mischievously.. I can't think of one who doesn't imply negligence of duty or frivolous behaviour."

"Neither do I. But I do know that no one would think that of you, not even the Chief Commissioner, you're too much of a gentleman." He seemed to accept that. His ruffled wavy hair that he apparently had attempted to sleek made her smile and made her wonder how it would be to run her fingers through the thickness of it. He smiled back at her with a wondering look as if to ask her what she was thinking.

The night had swept away all traces of the awkwardness or disappointment that had arisen between them after the dance; it had completely vanished and been replaced by a warm inclination...in fact they had never been closer mentally, even closer than after the opera or her first night in the hospital. They were simply too comfortable in each other's presence.

"Do you have to rush off to your shift immediately? Please don't. You need to eat. I'm making breakfast for you", she said with sweet consideration.

"I actually don't have to be at the station today", he admitted, "I got someone to take over my two day-shift yesterday."

Her face lit up. "Oh great! I've always wondered whether you get any days of at all."

He went up to the table and helped her fill the plates. She looked at him as he arranged the tray. She couldn't believe she had thought him plain or ordinary when first she saw him...and being surprised when Mac had called him handsome...it was hard to believe now.

She took the teapot with both hands from the worktop when she noticed that he felt her eyes on him. He got the tray and followed her out of the kitchen.

"How are your injuries? Does it hurt a lot?"

 _Just as stiff as any morning but what does that matter when you are here._

"Not really" she replied calmly, leading him barefoot out to the sundrenched terrace. She moved the chairs so they were sitting in the half-shade of the cherry purple Norway maples.

They ate in quietness, not feeling the need to exchange anything in words when so much was being said through glances and gestures and the world this morning was so full of life. The patio stones were getting warmer and warmer by the blazing sun and a flock of birds were chatting out of sight in the bushes. And if clouds ever could be not lifeless they were so now, sailing away towards the sea at a brisk speed. He could tell Phryne had slept herself sober...and she was eating with great relish, as was he. There was a clarity between them, neither embellished by intoxication nor veiled by her distress or his worry like it had between before. It felt like if he were to ask her anything, strictly speaking anything, she would answer unreservedly. She really had opened up to him this last day and night in a way he'd never thought she would.

Jack took one last sip of tea and turned to her. "How is Jane doing at Werribee?"

Phryne put away her empty plate being pretty full up. "Very well, thank god. She's got a chance to see a historic site she's been reading a lot about lately so she's thrilled." Jack caught the trace of relief in her voice.

"You were right to send her away."

"Was I?" she asked, sounding unsure of herself and like she wanted his opinion.

"I think so", he said calmly. She looked pleased.

"Speaking of Jane and books, I mustn't forget to give you the Frost collection. Remind me if I do." He nodded.

"You've got quite a number of books in your house", he said, looking through the glass door at a bookcase near the doorway.

"Guilty, very guilty" she replied following his gaze. "And I suspect you are very well-read, being a true Shakespeare man."

"The question is if you're as an avid reader as you would have me believe" he countered teasingly.

"I'm happy to be tested." He raised his eyebrows and she kept a steady look.

"What was that light brown book beside _West-Running Brook_ , it looked remarkably suspicious having no title or even author" he asked curiously.

"You must go and find out" she dared him. "And bring some other books to test me if you'd like", she suggested as he stood up and took the tray with him inside.

He returned a few minutes later with a small stack of books and a fan which he put in front of the other books as he held out the mysterious camel coloured one.

" _Lady Chatterley_ , I should have known", he said sitting down.

"Amazing how a little innocent book with ordinary words can frighten a whole society" she mused amusingly. _He wouldn't use the word innocent in the same sentence as D. H. Lawrence._

"I thought it was banned here in Australia" Jack said opening it warily.

"It certainly is. But I trust you not to confiscate it."

"I won't, too much work. And then I would have to read it", he smiled

"So you haven't?", she asked with twinkling eyes. "Read it?"

"I have not."

She nodded, she didn't think he had. She studied his face as he skimmed through a few pages, doubting he would quote from it.

His eye was caught on a passage early on: "Now he would have given all he had or ever might have to hold her warm in her arms, both of them wrapped in one blanket, and sleep. All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. _Surprisingly harmless. But he couldn't really quote that in front of her._

He found another sentence, different altogether and read it out loud.

"They lived freely among the students, they argued with the men over philosophical, sociological and artistic matters, they were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women." He looked up at her.

"Why doesn't anyone quote things like that when they speak about it?", he asked out loud. "It's all about how scandalous it is." She gave him an approving look. He continued. "That it is about women seems interesting in itself, just as the concept of the body versus the mind..."

"For having not read it you seemed remarkably well-informed" she said with a look full of meaning.

"I have glanced through it...one has to know what the fuss is all about."

"Indeed" she cut in, putting emphasis on both syllables.

"It's been a lot of talk about it, rather hard to miss it", he went on, "everyone mentions it or neglects to mention it...

"Or explicitly avoids it", she filled in. "But what did you think, glancing it through?"

"I think you can't give your opinion of a book you haven't read."

"But that's one of the basis of becoming well-read – to be able to comment on books you haven't read", she teased.

"The word _well-read_ is in that case is quite contradictory." She looked like she was still expecting a proper answer.

"I think that some things ought to be left to the imagination" he replied deprecatingly.

"I do to, it can be just as effective." He did not look like he believed that she agreed with him. "Like Austen's _Persuasion_ ", she added, "where the main characters hardly talk and definitely don't touch and yet she succeeds in portraying those strong sentiments most vividly. Though somehow she at the same time has this peculiar talent to turn the most anticipatory and exciting scenes in to dull ones just by way of her narrative style."

"No wonder she isn't banned like D. H. Lawrence" he concluded, exchanging _Lady Chatterley_ for another book in the pile. He perused the book he had chosen behind the veil of the sun fan so she wouldn't recognise the cover. Phryne let him drop the topic scandalous books.

"You'll know this one, he said, turning a few pages. "If you don't...

"You never ever have to read _Lady Chatterley_ she promised him solemnly with laughter in her voice. 

He cleared his throat and searched for the beginning of the passage.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." _God his voice was so perfect for this, for reading aloud, so deep and warm and humming...and he was reading slowly with great intonation._ "I did not wish to live what was not life," he continued. "I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." _Please don't stop, she thought, when he neared the end of the quote._

He closed the book and waited for her reply.

"Thoreau, _Walden_." she said reluctantly, wanting to hear his voice and not her own.

"We have to raise the bar", she interposed.

"Alright, do you know this one", he asked holding up the book and fan high in front of him so she couldn't peek. "I want to write a novel about Silence, the things people don't say."

"Virginia Woolf!"

"Correct. Which one?"

She racked her brain...her frustration with herself was delightfully manifest.

" _A Room of One's Own_?" she said with little conviction.

"No. _The Voyage Out_ ", he said very pleased.

"Oh is it, I should have known" she berated herself. His eyes were smiling; her response seemed to divert him. It reminded her of...a thought popped up in her head.

"He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams", she countered in a mellow voice. It had the desired effect; he was pleasantly taken aback and looked up at her from the page.

" _To the_ _Lighthouse_ " she added. _What a beautiful quote,_ she thought, _and fitting_ , while he took refuge behind the cover.

"Do you have another quote?" she inquired, not managing to catch his gaze. "This is great fun!"

"It takes a while to find one."

"No hurry for my sake."

She watched him look through two different books without finding anything he thought good enough to use. His concentrated searching face was very handsome.

The sound of the telephone ringing reached through the half-open French glass door. Phryne reluctantly sat up in the deckchair wincing...there was evidently something about sitting up that was especially painful, that made some unknown muscles work. Jack stopped her with a gesture of his hand. "You don't have to answer it."

"I do, it must be Mac", she thanked him with a smile." I was supposed to call her before noon."  
"It's still early morning."

"Well, she's Mac. Would you mind answering before she rings off?" I'm not sure I can make a dash."

"Of course", he said, disappearing quickly into the house. He walked through the rooms to the telephone in the vestibule.

"Miss Fisher's residence."

"Detective Inspector."

"Dr. MacMillan, if you wish to speak to Miss Fisher..."

"I just rang to see how she's holding up" she said frankly, "but she tends to stay in check with you around so I couldn't be more pleased." _If only that were true_ , he thought.

"Wasn't she was supposed to in hospital and not at home?" he asked her calmly. MacMillan sounded much less stressed out today.

"Yes, it's not ideal, but on the other hand she rests better at home than at a busy ward."

He was about to ask her if he should get Phryne to the telephone when she resumed.

"And we can't do or give her anything, she just have to rest. Tell her I advise her to take a bath to limber up her muscles and increase the blood circulation in her bruising."

"I will."

"On second thoughts, don't make it sound like a suggestion, just make sure she does" Mac said thinking she wouldn't have the time to stop by Phryne later today.

"I'll do my best" Jack promised.

"Thank you, Inspector. Good of you to look after her. Good day."

Jack went out to Phryne at the terrace who was flicking breadcrumbs at the ivy trailing down the rain gutter.

"How did Mac sound", she turned and asked him.

"Not as rushed as when I last saw her, rather calm actually."

"Good", Phryne said relieved. "She's been working too hard, too long shifts."

"She will be alright", he assured her. "One almost thinks you two can to stand any strain." She smiled quietly at the kind compliment.

"Dr. MacMillan said you ought to take a warm bath to prevent stiffness and make the bruises heal quicker."

"Oh. Then I will later today."

"I think she meant rather promptly." Phryne thought about it but she must have looked defiant instead of deliberate because he apparently thought she was thinking of postponing it.

"I'll leave now if you'd prefer, if that's what stopping you...", he said

"No don't leave, it's not that.", she cut in. "I just thought it would be a bore for you to wait for me."

"I don't mind", he asserted, "I can peruse you books."

"But I'll frit away your day off."

"I really don't mind" he persisted with a smile. She looked surprised and still not sure.

"Are you sure?" she asked wondering.

"Yes. You should head Dr. MacMillan's advice." She gave him a grateful sigh.

"Alright, I won't be gone too long" she said opening the French glass door.

"The newspaper is still in the letterbox, if you want it... and plays and poems are on the bottom shelves in the parlour" she added, before disappearing into the house.

... / / ...

The warm water really did the trick, she was feeling better already. The golden taps had become silent long since but she could hear the light breeze sighing in the maples outside her window. Running warm water, what a heaven...

She had been in for a long time; she should go down so he shouldn't have to wait for her longer.

She stood up in the soapy tub and reached for the towel hanging on the chocolate brown dressing screen when her legs suddenly disappeared under her. BAM! The edge of the tub hit her straight on the ribs. "Aaaaaaaah!" she heard herself howl before she completely lost her breath, but GOD IT HURT SO BAD! She felt her body involuntarily slid back down in the tub as she heaved pointlessly for air, cursing herself for tumbling like that. Her whole ribcage and stomach pounded relentlessly franticly at her clumsiness... She turned her forehead against the side of the tub to cool herself down when there was running footsteps in the stairs.

Seconds later Jack knocked lightly at the door.

"Phryne?" _Damn, did she scream that loud...she shouldn't have... it was a bit late for that now, though._

"Are you alright?"

She croaked a "Yes".

"What did you say?"

"I just _stupidly_ slipped in the bath", she panted when the air finally returned to her lungs.

"Did you hit your head?"

"Just my ribs", she groaned, trying to sound like it was nothing, not really sure it _was_ the ribs she had hit since the pain was too intense and widespread to pinpoint – her whole bloody torso ached. She put her hands on the edge of the tub and tried to draw herself up but had to stop. She was hurting so badly that she was laughing, which only made it hurt more. She would just wait a few minutes till the pain had subsided somewhat then she would surely get up.

"Are you sure you're alright?", she heard his muffled voice on the other side of the door.

"Yes, thank you. I'll be down in a moment." She gave it another minute then tried to sit up again with might and main. Jack could hear her swearing like a bargee and tried to make sense of the plashes, gasps and dragging noises across enamelled porcelain.

 _Why the_ _hell_ _couldn't she get up?_

She tried again but it was physically impossible, no matter how much she forced or cursed, her abs didn't listen to her, the pain was simply too great. Why she didn't take a drink this morning to numb it was beyond her.

 _This was not happening; she couldn't believe this was happening. And Mr. Butler wasn't here...should she call Mac? Damn, she'd told her she'd be helping out on another hospital of which she didn't even know the name._

She hesitated and opened her mouth, thinking they were adults after all and had kept things professional this far, despite everything.

"Jack...? Are you still there?" This was going to sound _so_ wrong, like she'd planned it all along.

"Yes, I am." He sounded as calm as ever.

"I actually can't get up...I've tried, I've _seriously_ tried..." He heard the water swish about in the tub; she was at it again, failing and groaning loudly.

"I can hear that, don't try again", he sighed.

"I _really_ can't get up."

"I believe you. Just...don't make it worse."

"Jack, don't think it's premeditated, I didn't slip on purpose." Jack knit his brows in surprise: _Why would he think that? "_ But I honestly need help up", she continued. "I considered tipping over the tub but there's too much water and too heavy, I don't think I can...and it would flood the floor pretty badly."

There was a pause. He laughed a little inwardly at the fact that she thought she had to explain herself to him.

"I'd of course ask Mr Butler if he were here... God, this sounds so wrong", she said half-out-loud."

She tried not to stir so the water wouldn't lap the tub so she could hear his response clearly.

"You want me to lift you up?" he asked to clarify what he was considering not doing,what he'd already decided not to.

"If you'd be so kind."

There was a longer pause.

"You've already seen me in a towel." _Well, yes, but this wasn't the same thing at all._

"You really can't get up?" he heard himself ask her as a last resort.

"I cannot." She put her arms to her sides in the water after a last futile attempt at sitting up.

"If you're sure then..." He took a breath and reached for the door knob. "I'm coming in."

Jack opened the door slowly. The room looked just as it had when he last had been here, except lighter; the thin curtains in two of the three windows were letting in a lot of sun being reflected in the looking-glass near her bed. He didn't see her immediately; the tub must be in the far corner behind the jacaranda screen, in front of the curtained window. He walked up to it, still only glimpsing the end of the tub, nothing more, her head wasn't popping up above the edge of it so she must be half-lying down. He hesitated and stopped right behind the end of the screen, wondering how they should do this. If he were to close his eyes, would he still be able to lift her...?...nothing he could think of sounded like a good plan.

"Could you give me the towel?" she said, not sounding the least embarrassed. Well, it was good _she_ didn't feel that way. He saw it hanging on the screen and took it down. She must be lying very still because he didn't hear any swishing of water. He stepped backwards past the dark screen and held out his arm towards the tub.

"Can you reach it?" he asked with his back to her. She smiled when she saw he wasn't turning his head the slightest or even risking touching her with his arm.

"Thank you." She took the towel from his hand and was somehow able to wrap it around herself without making her muscles protest too loud. She glanced up at his nicely cut suit and gorgeously broad shoulders for a moment, stopping at his neck and well-trimmed haircut. The tidy looks of the present times really fit him like glove.

The swishing in the tub calmed down...he dearly hoped she was wrapping her whole body in the towel and not just her hair, if that thought would somehow occur to her.

"You can turn around now", she said casually, sounding like she was smiling.

He slowly turned around with a mixture of composedness and restraint to be read in his face. She was almost lying down in the tub, with the soaking wet towel soaking draped around her rosy body, the water reaching her waist. The fact that she wasn't stark naked strengthened him.

There was an assuredness exuding from him, though she could see the sight of her in a towel disconcerted him slightly. She admired his ability to hold back whatever he was feeling; she had never been able to do that to any greater extent when it came to things like this. He was the perfect gentleman. He was looking at all the right places, that is to say not her or her body, just in her eyes and at the tub.

"I can't even sit up", she said slightly apologetic. "I feel like a baby." _Was he mistaken or were the corners of her mouth twitching?_

"How should I lift you? I can't grip your arms", he said looking at all the bruising. Yes the question was where the hell he should lift her without hurting her.

She looked down on her body. "You can lift me under the arms, that should work."

He took a step closer to the tub when she held up her hand.

"Wait, your suit will be soaked."

 _Is that what you're thinking of, he thought? Your priorities are a bit odd, minding whether my suit gets soaked or not when you can't even get up_ _from_ _the bath._ "I don't mind", he replied.

"No but you'll ruin it, take it off." He sighed and smiled a little and hung it on the screen and turned to her again. Her black bob was plastered down and her skin was strewed with droplets...she looked warm. He bent over the tub and put his hands under her arms and gently lift her up into a sitting position while she winced badly. She took a deep breath, glad she had managed to refrain from screaming. His eyes were asking her if she was doing all right.

"Fine" she smiled very pleased, not really believing he was inside her bedroom, helping her like this. She was not, however, late to appreciate the opportunity her beating gave him to repeatedly flash his charming gentlemanlikeness, day after day.

She was keeping her knees bent, making the wet towel stick high up her thighs, which made him wish her legs were straightened so they wouldn't be so exposed. He took a firmer grip under her arms and rose her to her feet in the bath just like that, very easily.

"Can you stand?" he asked doubtingly, keeping his hands around her while searching her eyes.

"Yes" she said, wobbling to find her balance, so he took her by her knees and lift her up in his arms and turned away from the tub. She looked up into his face, delightfully surprised by his swift move. He looked away from her small feet dripping with water and met her glowing gaze. She was soaking wet, drenching his shirt within seconds, though he nevertheless could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of the shirt.

"Where should I put you down?" he asked, trying not to take too much notice of her stunning sleek legs.

"Am I that heavy?", she twinkled. "On the bed would be great." Feeling his strong arm under her shoulder blades, and the solid grip of his fingers tight around her thigh made a ripple go through her belly.

He walked over to her bed and put her down on the foot end.

He looked around in the room.

"Is that what you're wearing?", he said, pointing to the clothes on the chair.

"Yes" she replied slowly, in her mind still remaining in his arms.

He brought her the red and yellow patterned clothes. "Is there anything else you need?

"No thank you," she smiled warmly.

She looked at his soaking wet shirt.

"You can get a dry one from the wardrobe in the next room to the left."

"It will dry in the sun."

"No please, just take a new one", she insisted sunnily. "I'll be downstairs in a minute."

With an ambiguous look he turned around and went out of her room, forgetting his jacket hanging on the jacaranda screen. Was that relief or regret she'd seen in his face just now...or something else...she wasn't sure.

She put on undergarments and long burgundy linen trousers on her half-wet body and decided to add more Tiger Balm to the bruising before putting on her blouse. She leaned on the furniture on her way to the bathroom to get a dry towel while the drenched one was hanging over her shoulders. She took a pause leaning at the bookcase. She had to get fully dressed so she could go down to the parlour and have a drink to stop looking like a toddler when walking.

Jack walked passed her room on his way to the stairs and cleared his throat at the door.

"I forgot my jacket", he said, sounding like he wasn't going to come and get it.

"Yes it's on the screen, you may come in", she said leaning heavily on the chair near the bathroom. Jack caught sight of her towel-covered back in the chink of the door he must have neglected to close properly on his way out.

"What are you doing?" he said, pushing the door open when she tried to let go of the chair and take another step to the bathroom.

"Go back and sit down, you're making the pain worse", he told her walking up to her.

"I was just getting a dry towel" she explained. He steadied her back to the bed and got her a new towel from the en suite bathroom.

"You must rest today."

"I intend to", she assured him calmly reaching for the Tiger Balm in the bedside table drawer.

He put on his jacket while she dried her upper body and put the towel around her neck and opened the lid of the balm. _Let's get this over with._ She reached under her right arm for a large bruise behind the arm, nearly on her back, impossible to see without a mirror but which she knew was here...somewhere... she couldn't find it of course. She could see him hanging up the wet towel on the chair in the corner of her eye while she stretched her arm further back in vain. She turned her head over her shoulder again to try and spot it but didn't see anything. She hadn't known it existed until Jack had lifted her up and accidentally pressed his fingers against it.

"Higher up" she heard his deep voice. She looked around at him inquiringly. "It's higher up your back..." She moved her fingers upwards. "No, on your shoulder blade", he said.

"Never mind", she said, giving it one last try before her arm gave up. He went up to her and seized her hand, moving her fingers gently to the bruise on her back so she could smear it. "Thank you" she said over her shoulder when he let go of her fingers, still feeling him standing behind her. She sighed inwardly, telling herself she shouldn't be too surprised each time he came to her aid.

He took a step away from her. A water drop from a strand of her hair landed on her shoulder blade and trickled down her back...even from behind she was so beautiful... He pictured the palm of his hand resting on her shoulder blade and slowly make its way down along her spine, nothing more, before he pushed the thought back in his mind since he of course wasn't going to touch her like that.

He took a few steps towards the door so he was standing in front of her instead of behind.

"Can I persuade you to stay for luncheon as a thank you for...everything" she asked him openly ... _or for simply being you, she added tacitly._ He hesitated, wondering why he was still in the room when she wore nothing but a brassiere and a towel on her upper body. He was going to leave her to get fully dressed to resume some form of propriety.

"Not that it's much of a repayment. But, it's the least I can do", she said looking at him while smearing another bruise on her arm with ointment. His eyes strayed to her belly. _Her bruises were now shifting more in blue-green. There were too many of them...how utterly devoid she was of pity towards herself, treating them like nothing but an annoying inconvenience._

"We could sit in the sun on the terrace discussing books all day?" she suggested when he didn't answer. He smiled warmly and nodded his content, fascinated that she could turn the most untoward situations into carefree ones...and seemingly harmless ones into charged, for that matter.

"I'll wait for you outside" he said, while seeing how applying ointment to a black and blue mark under her collarbone made her instinctively screw up her eyes.

"Does it help?" he asked hopefully.

"It does", she replied with her head bent down. "I'm counting on it replacing the effects the scotch had yesterday so I won't have to get so spifflicated this time."

"Did the hospital give it to you?" he wondered, remembering how surprisingly well she'd held her liquor last night.

"No I bought it in Singapore. Tiger Balm it's called...it feels curiously tingly and chilly at the same time" she described enthusiastically.

She put more of it her forefinger and touched ever so lightly on the lower ribs where the tub had rammed her but flinched and bit her lip. She moved her fingers to another bruise but they were trembling now and she didn't want to risk accidently jabbing the swollen spot. "I can't believe I'm so afraid of pain", she sighed, laughing quietly at herself. She tried to touch the blue mark again but her hand didn't want to stop trembling and sure enough she jabbed it instead of stroked it making her twist her face. She stole a glance at him up at him; he looked like he was thinking of going out of the room just now. She didn't want to ask him another favour... He was standing on the carpet with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Could you..." she began hesitantly. He met her eye. "Would you smear it on the bruises?" she asked him, knowing he'd probably be the only man not to think she had an underlying motive in asking him to. He opened his mouth to object. "It hurts less when you do it", she added, "you're so gentle."

"I can't do that", he said clearing his throat.

She paused, searching his gaze.

"You've already seen my blackened body" she said slowly.

"This is not the same", he persisted.

"You know I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't fine with it. Unless it makes you uncomfortable to see the marks, of course?" she said in her melodic voice. He shook his head. _Was she for real, of course it wasn't because of that, even if they did upset him, which they did, he wouldn't say no to her just for that reason._

She continued in her soft voice, her clear green eyes meeting his. "You really don't know how much I trust you, do you" she said, coming to the conclusion as she spoke. He blinked, disregarding that last remark but looking like he was going to give in. "Are you sure?" he asked with knitted brows, meeting her gaze steadily.

She bared her torso in reply by putting away the dry towel, looking calmly at him, waiting. He wondered how she once again had rendered him incapable of saying no to her by making him feel like he did not wish to. Well, he did not...

Jack sat down beside her on the bedside and she turned so she was sitting more opposite to him and handed him the Tiger Balm. He put some on his fore- and middle finger and looked down on her battered body.

"Where do you want it, on your arms too?"

"That's not necessary. Mostly on the belly, please."

He chose a hideous bruise right under her brassiere and with light strokes put the ointment on it. It was astonishing how gentle his warm fingers were against her skin...it was just as she remembered it from when he tended to her face in the office the other day... Phryne sighed inaudibly, feeling some of the tenseness in her gradually disappear.

Jack felt his eyes wander over all her black and blue marks.

"Did Collins photograph everything?"

She turned her eyes from his fingers on her ribs to his downcast eyes. "...yes?" _She did not clearly remember...but no, she had only bared her arms and little of her belly. "N_ ot _every_ bruise, no", she replied.

He gave her a slight nod looking like it was the answer he had expected. "We'll sort it out down the station tomorrow," he promised her, getting more balm from the tiny jar.

She lay down on her back with great effort, wincing, before he could stop her so he could get at the bruises on her stomach more easily. She could tell her motion surprised him but fortunately did not put him off, he just gave her one quick glance before continuing. He worked downwards moving from bruise to bruise on her ribs and stomach, each one giving him icy twinges, but in some way her evident contentment with his care and her irrepressible good mood assuaged them. Strangely enough it did not seem like he hurt her that much...she didn't screw up her eyes for a second or gasp when he touched her swollen skin, only clenched her teeth now and then but constantly with her eyes resting on him looking so at ease...

The strong smell of menthol and camphor filled the room and made its way into their nostrils, mingling with the quiet suspense growing between them, drawing them in in each other's minds...not simply because of the heightened sensation of skin on skin or the mere sensuality of it, but due to the plain fact that he was treating her and she was letting him, without a shred of remorse or self-reproach.

They locked eyes for a moment, feeling so entwined in one another in a more profound way now that she was neither in great pain nor forlorn, like at his vigil at the hospital.

She was glad now that she'd been hit so many times and that Jack was taking his time being very careful making it last longer. It felt like with his each touch he erased, wiped out every bruise Derrington had inflicted on her...she would be surprised if they were still visible if she were to look away from his face down on her body...she truly felt that his care had that impact...

Inevitably she came to think of his arms around her on the hospital that night... how tender his embrace...and that rare, unexpected sense of affinity, making her believe there may be such a thing in this world between man and woman after all, without the need for marriage or even physical contact. Christ how she missed it, looking up at him being perfectly unaware of her gaze and thoughts because being so intent on not hurting her. His forehead was wrinkled and he was stroking a dark mark above her hip. She imagined him putting his palms and not just his fingers on her waist and caressing her... if she shut her eyes it almost felt like he did, with the sensation of him being so near being almost palpable...

This was not a good idea, his gentle touches made her only want him badly, to touch him badly, out of nowhere, even though it hurt when he smeared the bruises. It surprised her since it hadn't been her intention and he did nothing to stir that emotion; not that he had too, he still did by merely brushing against her. She loved that he never touched her in a presumptuous way yet his every touch, no matter how unintentional, exulted her thoroughly.

He didn't want to be one of those men who only seemed to appreciate the body of a woman and nothing more...it just so happened that she embodied both charisma and deafening beauty. He couldn't help noticing how poignant and beautiful her waist was or the curve or her hips And her skin...her belly was if possible even smoother than her arms. She looked as fit and slender and beautiful as ever, apart from the blue marks.

Jack finally looked up at her when he had to get some more ointment, then he noticed her belly rising and falling with her quickened breathing...something made him think it no longer was because of the pain...was she really so affected by his touch, his closeness?

When he got to a particularly large bruise on under her bully button she gasped sharply and he instantly stopped.

"Don't you dare apologize" she forestalled him, smiling through the pain, while seriously contemplating closing the distance between their faces by dragging him down but eventually managed to refrain herself. She was so afraid that he would withdraw or worse, leave for good, if she made an advance, that she restrained herself for that reason alone.

She lowered her voice, looking straight at him with a quiet smile. "What would I do without you, Jack?".

"You wouldn't be mixed up in this case, that's what" he said with his eyes still on her belly button but not really seeing.

"He won't get more than a few years no matter how I draw up his charge...", he said hopelessly. The penalty for abuse is repulsively low." She didn't like hearing him use the word _abuse_ about her

"Well get him for murder. We'll find evidence of his guilt", she said to console him. It was evident that he didn't share her conviction.

"I could write he did all sorts of things to you but it wouldn't change anything", he said in a low voice, "he would still get away with a mild punishment when he ought to be locked up for good."

"Jack, you...

"Like this isn't enough", he continued, gently stroking a bruise on her upper arm with his thumb while his palm was resting on her skin. She gave him a rueful grateful smile, once again regretting how this whole business hurt him though she at the same time couldn't help feeling thrilled by his touch.

"I wish I could make it undone for your sake" she whispered. It didn't seem to reassure him but he returned her quiet smile.

"I'm nearly done then we can get you a drink", he said, smearing the last bruise.

"Don't let Mac hear you talk like that, she says I'll turn into an alcoholic", she replied in jest.

"Well I'd make you an alcoholic any day if that meant you wouldn't feel this pain." She wanted to kiss him for saying that. He put back the little glass jar on her bedside table and helped her as she tried to sit up...there was something about sitting up that seemed insurmountable. She put on the ochre yellow chiffon blouse while he rose from the bed waiting for her.

"I better carry you downstairs." She looked up at him.

"I can walk you know" she said as her mouth curled at his suggestion, not really sounding like an objection.

"Barely. I wouldn't call that walking".

"It's just sitting up that seems impossible" she said frankly.

"I won't let you trip in the stairs." He was being delectably adamant.

"If you insist" she replied, sounding like she was being gladly won over.

She put her arm around his neck as he lifted her up and carried her out of the room.

He focused on the stairs so he wouldn't miss a step and made sure he wasn't knocking her against the banisters of the narrow staircase. It was much easier carrying her when she wasn't all wet and slippery. Phryne tried to be as be as light and still as possible cuddled up in his hold, resting her head lightly on his upper arm. One flight of stairs went past quickly but on the second landing he eventually stole a glance at her. Her face was all lit up.

"What is it?" he asked curiously. She tried to put on a semblance of a straight face but only smiled even wider.

"Why are you smiling?" Her smile was wonderfully infectious.

Her voice turned quite low but lilting all the same. "I like being in your arms", she replied simply. A beautiful spark ignited in his eyes at her words and then he looked away at the banisters again as they took the last turn down to the vestibule. He was adorably rubbish at taking compliments.

He took the last steps of the stairs and put her down on the vestibule floor, but before he could take away his arm around her she said quietly "Do I have to let go this time?" His hand was around her waist.

He let his arm slid off her back and fade away from her. "Yes", he replied at length. But he didn't move, still standing close to her, not turning away from her but looking at her tenderly, like he couldn't help himself, like he couldn't keep away. She knew _she_ couldn't...she felt incapable of holding back anything right now and feeling no inclination to do so, although she know she would hardly sway him.

 _Was he leaning closer, inclining his head?_ He was probably only about to say something, he did that sometimes when he was going to say something important.

"Don't ever do that again" he said quietly, asked her seriously. "Not telling me."

"I won't", she averred with sincere candour in her voice, drawing closer.

He was holding her with a glance and she was losing herself in his lovely _lovely_ blue-grey eyes full of a rare light of its own that never seemed to diminish...she could stay in them all day...

The sun through the stained glass of the front door shone straight at her, making it hard to fully catch the expression in his face... _He was leaning in, was he leaning in or was she imagining it?_ He _was_ leaning in, she felt herself draw even closer, her eyes not dropping to his lips for once.

She hesitated an inch from his face, casting her eyes down at the realization that she was deluding herself; he would never kiss her or let her kiss him no matter how much he wanted to, or she yearned to, when suddenly his lips found hers, sending a instant ripple down her body of pure delight. His softness, his melting warmth and the fullness of the kiss despite being so careful imbued her entirely... She parted her lips to encourage him further and he responded, she responded, and she did not longer know where she ended and he began...

The current radiating inside her, soothing her soul felt inextinguishable; even as he withdrew from her... she opened her eyes looking at him in wonder and affection. The joy in his face was unparalleled.


End file.
